


Veela Bound

by ArtisticRae



Series: Bound [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Bonding, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Boys In Love, Creature Fic, Falling In Love, Fluff, Forced Bonding, Frottage, Ginny Weasley Bashing, Good Narcissa Black Malfoy, Good Severus Snape, Hand Jobs, Homophobia, Horcruxes, Humor, Intoxication, Jealousy, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Male Slash, Manipulative Dumbledore, Marking, Mates, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Pheromones, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Room of Requirement, Scars, Secrets, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Snogging, Teasing, Telepathic Bond, Veela, Veela Draco, Weasley Bashing, Wet Dream, Wings, love potion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-02-27 16:53:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 88,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2700305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtisticRae/pseuds/ArtisticRae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco is bleeding out on the bathroom floor, that is until his dormant Veela heritage kicks in and heals him. Unintentional bonding, unexpected powers, surprising alliances, and very very confusing dreams. Harry's last year at Hogwarts just got a lot more interesting. Explicit Drarry. Canon divergent from mid-year HBP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Surviving Sectumsempra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Draco and Harry start dueling in the boys bathroom neither knows that it will change their lives forever.

Author notes:

_Italicized words are character thoughts_

**_Italicized & boldfaced words are dream sequences or memories_ **

**Boldfaced words are in text reading materials (like books or letters)**

000 Represents a shift in character perspective

0~0~0 Represents a shift in scene (often followed by the date the new scene takes place if it is on a different day than the prior scene)

Chapter 1: Surviving Sectumsempra

Friday, 12/27/1996

When Harry had tried to explain to Ron and Hermione why he was choosing to remain at Hogwarts over the Christmas holidays despite having a standing invitation to go to the Burrow they hadn’t understood his need to stay at school. But this, THIS was why. After months of trying unsuccessfully to stalk Malfoy the snake was finally visible on the map and not flanked by his idiot bodyguards, Crabbe and Goyle. From the moment Harry saw Malfoy’s name on the list of students who were choosing to remain at Hogwarts over the holidays he had known that he would be declining his invitation to join the Weasleys at the Burrow for Christmas.

It was just too suspicious for Harry to ignore. Malfoy ALWAYS went home for the holidays. In fact, Harry remembered bitterly, Malfoy had expressed many times over the years that the only students who remained at school were those whose families didn't love them. Oh how that jibe had stung Harry back in first year. That single careless remark had cut Harry so much deeper than Malfoy could ever have hoped. That was how Harry knew that Malfoy was up to no good. If that pure-blooded prat was eschewing the undoubtedly lavish comforts of home than clearly he was planning something. Something he felt would be easier to accomplish with less students and teachers around to notice him. Well, whatever he was up to Harry intended to be there to stop him.

And so, against the vehement protests of his friends, Harry had signed up to stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas break. Due to all of the recent death eater attacks most families felt anxious to reunite over the holidays. The fact that there were so few students who had chosen to remain made locating Draco on the Marauder's Map trivially easy compared to how it usually was during term.

Harry had been staring intently at the map ever since Malfoy hadn’t turned up at the Great Hall during lunch. Harry’s first assumption had been that Malfoy was in the Room of Requirement, but that theory was dashed when he had quickly found Malfoy’s dot unmoving in the Slytherin dormitory; the one place in the castle that Harry couldn’t follow him.

Not one to be easily deterred Harry had decided to wait. After all, Malfoy couldn't hole up in the Slytherin dorms forever and when he finally resurfaced Harry would be waiting and at last Harry would find out where he was going and what he was up to.

Three painfully dull hours later Harry was beginning to worry if Malfoy was on to him. Harry had been waiting the time out in the library, as that is considerably closer to the dungeons than the Gryffindor dorm was and he had loads of holiday homework besides, not that he made any progress on that front.

But his diligent map watching was at last rewarded when Malfoy finally left the dungeons. Harry bolted out of the library earning himself an indignant glare from Madame Pince as he left the library books he’d been pretending to read scattered across the table. Harry hastened down the corridors that would intersect his path with Malfoy’s.

Harry watched the Marauder's Map with burgeoning excitement as the two dots came closer and closer. Again, Harry had assumed that Malfoy would be headed to the Room of Requirement. So Harry was surprised when Malfoy’s dot came to a sudden halt. Harry stared at the map suspiciously. Even more so when he saw where it was Malfoy had stopped.

 _‘The out of order bathroom? Why on earth would Malfoy want to hang out with moaning Myrtle?'_ Harry wondered. With his curiosity peaked Harry headed for the loo that he and his friends had once used to brew their illicit polyjuice potion back in second year. He approached the room cautiously and quietly so as not to alert Malfoy or Myrtle to his presence. Years of late night stealth didn’t fail him and managed to enter the disused room unnoticed by either of them.

The first thing Harry saw when he entered the room was Malfoy's back. He was hunched over and his hands were clenching the lip of the sink so tightly that his knuckles were white. His shoulders were shaking in silent sobs.

 _‘Is Malfoy crying?’_ Harry thought incredulously.

"Don't." Myrtle's voice tried to sooth, "Don't… tell me what's wrong… I can help you…" She reached her ethereal hands out to Malfoy as if she wanted to hold him.

"No one can help me," Malfoy's body shuddered with emotion. "I can't do it… I can't… it won't work and unless I do it soon he says he'll kill me."

Unfortunately, Malfoy chose that moment to look up into the mirror and their eyes met in the cracked glass fixture. The wasted second Harry spent noting the still glistening tears on Malfoy's cheeks was all the time Malfoy needed to swivel and cast his first curse.

The hex missed Harry by mere inches as his body instinctively dove out of the way. In defense Harry shot a Levicorpus in Malfoy's direction, but without time to properly aim Malfoy easily blocked it.

Harry was vaguely aware that moaning Myrtle was screaming at them to stop fighting, but the adrenaline and blood pounding in his ears blocked out all other thoughts. Harry had never felt so alive. The room was alight with deflected curses that shattered the wall sconces, exploded the trash bins, and finally smashed the bathroom's water cistern thus flooding the room with water.

Before Harry could even register the wetness pooling around his feet he was already slipping, falling, and Malfoy was aiming his wand at his prone body, "Cruci-"

"SECTUMSEMPRA!" Harry yelled from the floor, halting Malfoy's unforgivable on his lips. Harry had no time to relish in his victory, however, because the moment the curse struck Malfoy it shredded his shirt open and rent his flesh in a horrific crisscrossed slash. Ungodly amounts of blood spewed onto the flooded bathroom floor. Malfoy grasped desperately at his now mangled flesh and collapsed onto the ground, dizzy from blood loss.

Harry hurried to his side, animosity forgotten in his horror and reached out to help Malfoy back to his feet. Malfoy was deathly pale and looked like he was about to pass out. Malfoy cast off Harry's proffered helping hand and tried vainly to rise to his feet on his own. Dazed from blood loss he quickly lost his balance and slipped on the slick tiles, causing his head to crash loudly as it collided hard with the bloodied tiles below.

The addition of a head wound only increased the goriness of the scene. Harry stared on sickened into stillness as Malfoy's blood plumed dramatically, rapidly turning the clear water from the cistern a violent shade of red.

"No-I didn't mean-" Harry grabbed at Malfoy’s unconscious body, shaking his shoulders, trying to get some kind of response. “Wake up, you can’t sleep now. I need to get you to Madame Pomfrey!” Harry clutched at Malfoy’s ruined shirt helplessly.

"MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM!" Myrtle screamed. The bathroom door slammed open and Snape dashed in. Before Harry had time to register the Professor's appearance he had already kneeled beside Malfoy and begun chanting in some archaic language that Harry couldn’t identify.

Harry watched entranced as Snape recited the lengthy incantation without even pausing for air. Harry had never seen Snape look at someone this intensely. _‘Though,’_ Harry supposed. _‘He probably looked this way back in first year while he was chanting the counter curse that saved me from being cast off my broom by Professor Quirrell.’_ Harry desperately hoped Snape would succeed again. _'Malfoy can't die like this. This isn't what I wanted at all. I just wanted to know what he was up to.'_ Harry thought desperately. _'Snape has to save him.'_

The effect of the chanting was so subtle that at first Harry was worried that Snape’s spell wasn’t working. Harry was used to seeing wounds disappear instantly with a wave of Madame Pomfrey's wand, but these wounds weren’t going away. At best it looked like Snape was slowing the blood loss.

Harry knew without needing to be told that his reckless choice of curse was to blame. _‘Why did I use that spell? Why did the half-blood prince even have a spell like that in his book?’_ Harry lamented in vain, silently hating himself for having stupidly cast a curse he didn’t know the effect of.

The seconds dragged on, Harry could do nothing but watch while Snape’s chanting continued to have little to no effect. Harry began to despair that anything would happen when Malfoy's body suddenly jerked rigid and began to levitate off of the ground. For the first time Snape paused in his incantation. His face blanched as the suspended body began to radiate a blinding golden light.

Snape grabbed Harry by the arm and dragged him across the room, as far from Malfoy’s rapidly rising body as they could get without leaving the room. Snape leant against the cold wall and panted from the exertion of his continued chanting. Harry wasn't comforted by the exhausted defeated look on the teacher's face.

"What did you do to him?" Harry watched in morbid fascination as Malfoy’s glowing body hovered ominously in the middle of the room. “What’s happening to him?”

"This is not my doing." Snape fixed Harry with a seething glare as he spoke for the first time since he entered the bathroom. "This is your fault! You nearly killed him. You may still have. Now that he's transforming it is no longer possible for me to help him. My magic could disrupt his and interrupting him mid-transformation could kill him. So now it’s all up to him. He either has the necessary strength left to heal himself or he doesn’t. By the time we know that he has failed it will already be too late for anyone else to save him and his blood will be on your hands."

"Transforming?" Harry watched the floating body in confusion.

Snape let out an exasperated sigh not bothering to hide his disgust at Harry. "You really don't know anything do you Potter? I could have excused your ignorance back in first year, after all, you were raised by muggles. But you've been in the wizarding world for nearly six years now. I find it borderline irresponsible that you've taken no pains to learn anything of wizarding culture or traditions. Do you see how the light shimmers around him?” Snape pointed. “That light is his magic. If he is strong enough his magic will heal him."

"Wizards can do that?" Harry stared where Snape pointed in awe.

"No Potter, normal wizards can't do that!” Snape’s voice dripped with derision. “Are you even listening to me? Is there any value at all in my continuing to speak to you? Your actions, your careless, dangerous, stupid actions have driven Draco's Veela heritage from its dormancy. In times of great danger or extreme duress Veela have been known to exhibit healing abilities. Clearly, the imminence of his own death has forced his latent Veela powers to the fore. So now he’s transforming. You’d better hope he still has enough energy remaining after the transformation to heal himself."

"Malfoy's a Veela?" Harry asked dubiously.

"He will be now. Thanks to you!" Snape spat. "That is, if he survives the transformation." He added ominously.

Harry watched the metamorphosis in silence for several minutes. The radiant light Malfoy emitted reflected off the blood soaked floor and the broken mirrors, filling the room with a sickly red tinted light.

The swirling gold and silver beams of light wove around Malfoy like a swarm of glowing snitches and subtly altered him with each passing swoop. The changes were small enough that you might not immediately notice if you weren’t looking for them. His hair grew slightly longer and seemed more lustrous. His frame which formerly would have been described as merely thin now appeared lithe and leanly muscular. His fingers and his nails elongated. His complexion smoothed out and was free of blemishes and imperfections with only one notable exception. The sectumsempra slashes remained. The savage curse wounds appeared all the more glaring  against his otherwise flawless flesh and Harry was struck with another sickening wave of remorse.

Harry tried to distract himself from his guilt ridden thoughts by questioning Snape. "How could this happen? This doesn’t make any sense, people don't just turn into Veela, that's ridiculous. This isn't my fault." He added half trying to convince Snape and half trying to convince himself. "He attacked me first. He was about to hit me with the Cruciatus curse. I was just defending myself." He explained.

"Nonsense! How dare you lie about an unforgivable. Draco would never be stupid enough to use dark magic on school grounds. Though clearly the same compliment can’t be paid to your intelligence. When this is over you and I will be having a discussion about where you learned that dark curse." Snape threatened.

Harry paled but was saved from responding when Malfoy's body suddenly shuddered and collapsed back onto the ground with a sickly splash of bloody water. His body laid there unmoving without even a heaving chest to give any indication that he was still alive. Frightened into action Harry ran to Malfoy’s crumpled form, not waiting for Snape’s approval.

Up close Harry inspected the x shaped wound that bisected Malfoy's chest from shoulder to hip. It was nearly closed and the bleeding had died down to a slow drizzle, but it wasn't gone completely. He looked on in shame, wondering if it would scar Malfoy the way Voldemort's curse had scarred him.

 _'Please don't be dead.'_ Harry silently prayed as he reached out to see if Malfoy was still breathing.

At Harry's touch Malfoy's eyes shot open and he was instantly back on his feet. He lunged at the unsuspecting Gryffindor and their bodies slammed together against the nearest wall. The silver and golden lights that had disappeared with the completion of Malfoy's transformation roared up once more with a blazing luminosity that made it difficult to see. Harry couldn't breathe. The impact with the wall had knocked all of the air from his lungs and Malfoy’s crushing closeness prevented him from taking in more.

Harry cried out as Malfoy's nails dug mercilessly into his back, pierced through his robes and clawed into his skin with an agonizing depth that made Harry feel like he was dying. The pain tore through him and felt like electricity coursing through his veins, burning him, lighting him up from within. The agony was followed by a wave of weakness, and the lethargic certainty that his life was flowing out of him. It was all too overwhelming, the pain of the claws in his back, the lack of air, and the blinding brilliance that was Draco Malfoy.

 _‘I’m going to die in the arms of my enemy, in a bloody sopping wet broken down loo.’_ Harry thought bitterly. His arms were too weak to fight Malfoy off.

Harry could vaguely make Snape out in his peripheral vision. It looked like he was trying to get to them. He was pounding at the barrier that was Malfoy’s Veela magic, but the swirling light wouldn't let him interfere.

 _'Magic is pretty.'_ Was Harry's parting thought as his pain at last overtook him. The darkness closed in around his eyes and he embraced unconsciousness.

0~0~0

Sunday, 12/29/1996

Malfoy's whole body ached. He knew without needing to open his eyes that he wasn't in his own bed. The smell of poultices and antiseptics gave the hospital wing away. _'POTTER!'_ He thought angrily. He sat up opening his eyes groggily and saw that Harry was in the bed across the room.

He smirked, happy that it seemed he had at least managed to land Potter in the hospital wing as well, _'At least it looks like I gave as good as I got.'_ He thought smugly. He tried to climb out of bed, but Madame Pomfrey noticed that he was awake and hurried to his side, stopping him.

"Oh good, you're awake. How are you feeling?" she asked, pressing her hand to his forehead as she did so.

"Terrific." He snarked. "I feel like I've been hit by the knight bus. What kind of curse did he use on me anyway?"

Madame Pomfrey looked uncomfortable. "Oh, um, I think I better leave it to Snape to explain what happened in the bathroom. After all he was the one who found the two of you. I'll go summon him. You stay in bed." She ordered before she scurried away to find the Slytherin head of house, leaving the doors open behind her.

"Oi, Potter!" Malfoy yelled the moment he was sure Madame Pomfrey was out of ear shot. As far as he was concerned if he had to be awake and in pain than Potter ought to be too. Harry shifted in his sleep and then rolled onto his back letting out an inelegant snore. Draco threw a pillow at him, and managed to smack him full in the face.

"What the hell?" Harry swore, tossing the pillow onto the ground in his sleep hazed confusion.

"What did you curse me with?" Draco asked in a dangerous tone. Harry looked up at Draco's voice, blinking away his residual sleepiness as he took in his surroundings.

"We're in the hospital wing." He replied stupidly.

"Huh, funny that,” Draco retorted sarcastically. “I had managed to ascertain that much myself. What I asked you was what you cursed me with?"

Harry looked down at his hands guiltily. Draco didn’t think it was a good sign that Potter looked that contrite.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know what the spell would do to you. It was the first curse that came to mind." He explained, his eyes still fixed on his hands.

Draco was floored. _'Did Potter just apologize to me?'_ Draco hid his surprise at the apology and indignantly replied.

"Let me get this straight. You used a curse on me when you didn't even know what it did? You could have killed me."

"You're one to act all high and mighty." Harry shot back, contrition quickly giving way to anger. "I don't care what Snape says I know that you were about to cast Cruciatus on me. You're lucky my curse hit you first or you might be in Azkaban as we speak."

"And you're lucky your curse didn't kill Mr. Malfoy or you WOULD be in Azkaban as we speak." Snape interjected from across the room.

"Professor." Malfoy greeted his Slytherin Head as he approached the Slytherin’s bed.

"How are you feeling?" Snape asked, concern written across his usually stern face.

"I've felt better." Draco admitted.

"I can imagine.” Snape replied darkly, casting Potter a scathing glare.

"What happened? I don’t- I feel like my memory is incomplete. I remember Potter coming into the bathroom and the beginning of the fight. Then the next thing I know I’m waking up here."

"That’s not surprising, you were unconscious for most of what happened after you were attacked. Mr. Potter cursed you with a dark spell that rends flesh and is incredibly difficult to heal."

"But you knew the counter curse and you were able to heal me in time?" Draco assumed.

"It's true I do know an incantation that may have been able to fight the curse. If circumstances had been different I might have been able to heal you. Though there’s no way of knowing and no use in speculating whether or not my counter curse would have been successful or not. You see, my efforts were interrupted by your own survival instincts. There's no easy way for me to explain this to you Draco, so I’m just going to be honest with you. You very nearly died the other night. The direness of your predicament awakened your latent Veela genes and you transformed to heal yourself."

"What? You’re saying that I'm a Veela now?" Draco sputtered uncharacteristically.

"Well a part-Veela at the very least. We're not sure if the transformation has made you into a full Veela or if you are just a one-eight Veela with active Veela traits. It remains to be seen which Veela powers besides healing you’ll come to display. Only time will tell, but I saw you transform with my own eyes. Your Veela magic awakened from its dormancy so that it could save you." Snape answered.

"Do I look different?" Draco raised his arms to inspect himself. He noted that his fingers had elongated and his nails were thicker and felt stronger and pointier than they had been before. His skin looked flawless, almost luminous even. _'How had I not noticed that when I woke up?'_ He wondered with a pleased smile.

Madame Pomfrey brought him a hand mirror obligingly and he assessed himself in its reflection. His face at least was largely unchanged. Like the skin on his hands his facial complexion looked pristine and was silky smooth to the touch. His eyes had turned from their prior bland gray to a molten silver that he quite liked. _‘Very Slytherin.’_ He thought with a smirk. His hair had grown a few inches and draped gracefully at the nape of his neck. He had always favored shorter hair personally, but he had to admit the new look suited him.

"I find my appearance acceptable.” He said at last, setting the hand mirror on the nightstand beside him. “What other changes should I expect?"

Madame Pomfrey and Professor Snape exchanged glances. But Madame Pomfrey spoke first.

"Neither Professor Snape or I pretend to be experts on Veela magic, Mr. Malfoy. Though I assure you, we have ordered books on the topic and we will both be researching the topic in the coming weeks. But based on the generic knowledge that we have at present we think it is safe to assume that you will manifest at least some of the more common Veela traits. I imagine you will find yourself popular among your classmates. It wouldn’t be surprising if you found yourself able to use allure, or release pheromones, as that is undoubtedly the most common Veela ability. Though I feel I should state, on behalf of the school, that we would strongly prefer that you not purposely use your allure on fellow students while on school grounds for obvious reasons." She looked at him sternly than continued. "Someday, should you chose to bond to a mate, it is possible that you may grow wings. Really only time will tell how thoroughly your Veela heritage has manifested itself."

"So other potential perks aside you’re telling me that I'm just extra good looking, charming, and universally desirable? That doesn't sound so bad." Malfoy preened.

000

"Do I really need to be here for this?" Harry interjected from across the room. "Because while listening to Malfoy wax poetic about himself does hold some entertainment value I think my time would probably be better spent elsewhere. To be honest, I don't even know why I'm here. I didn't even get hexed during our fight." He finished, his voice tinged with annoyance.

"About that…" Madame Pomfrey began, but Snape interrupted her.

"You're here because you lost a substantial portion of your life force the other night and Madame Pomfrey wanted you to recover under her supervision."

"What do you mean I lost my life force?" Harry tensed his hands clasping the sheets reflexively.

"Stupidly, though I suppose in this case fortuitously, the other night when Malfoy collapsed to the ground physically and magically exhausted from his transformation you ran to his side to help him. His magical core was drained when his mana proved not up to the task of both transforming and fully healing his body. When you approached him his Veela survival instincts kicked in, and identifying you as a source of life energy he latched on to you and siphoned off your excess energy until he was able to finish healing himself. Had it not been for your foolhardy intervention I suspect that he would likely have died from lacking sufficient energy to sustain his life functions. Do you not remember any of this?" Snape asked. Harry shook his head silently and Snape continued.

"Well, he clawed into your back and forcibly funneled a considerable amount of your life and magical energy into himself. I tried to stop the exchange of course, I didn’t know if he would be able to stop without killing you. But Veela magic, particularly wild instinctual Veela magic is quite contentious. I was unable to prevent the exchange. By the time Draco finished healing himself Madame Pomfrey had joined us in the bathroom. After the magic released you and two of you collapsed to the ground unconscious Madame Pomfrey and I levitated the two of you up to the hospital wing. That was two days ago." Snape explained.

"But the two of you seem fine now and we have every reason to believe that with continued rest and healthy food the two of you will be back up to your normal energy levels by the start of term next week!" Madame Pomfrey piped in with what Harry had come to recognize as her reassuring voice.

"So there will be no lasting side effects?" Harry asked dubiously and was discomfited when Madame Pomfrey and Snape exchanged another set of loaded looks. This time Snape was the one who answered.

"You are both scarred. We were able to heal the wounds Malfoy inflicted on your back but just like the curse scar you left on his chest the marks he tore onto your back seem impervious to our healing magic. Not even dittany helped." Harry reached back and felt the jagged lines that marred his shoulder blades, four long lines on each side. They felt pleasantly warm to the touch.

"Potter scarred me!" Malfoy demanded. Tearing open the front of his shirt and staring at his chest angrily. The x shaped curse scar shimmered slightly against his alabaster skin with an almost pearlescent luster.

"Oh sod off Malfoy. Your scar is barely noticeable, look what you did to me!" Harry pulled up his shirt turned his exposed back to Malfoy angrily.

The Veela claw marks were raised and had an angry pinkish tinge to them, standing out starkly against Potter's pale back.

"You deserve it. You almost killed me." Malfoy shot back unapologetically.

"Boys." Madame Pomfrey scolded. "That's enough. Fighting on school grounds is a very serious offense, Professor Snape and I are both very disappointed in the two of you. Especially you Mr. Potter. The use of Dark Magic on Hogwarts grounds is strictly prohibited. Mr. Malfoy loses 20 points to Slytherin for starting the fight and you lose 50 points for Gryffindor, for dueling, using dark magic, and for nearly killing a fellow student." Harry opened his mouth to argue but Madame Pomfrey cut him off preemptively.

"And before you even try to argue with me, Mr. Potter, I'll have you know I had to argue with Professor Snape for hours to convince him to not call the Ministry and press criminal charges against you. I wish to impress upon you the seriousness of what you did. Not knowing the effect of a curse is not a defense for using it. To the contrary using spells you don’t know is incredibly reckless and it is miraculous that Mr. Malfoy survived. Both of your families have been notified of this incident."

Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes at that last bit. He couldn't imagine that the Dursley's would care that he'd been in a wizards duel, if they felt anything at all it would be disappointment that one or both of them hadn't died in the endeavor. As for Malfoy's parents, they'd probably throw him a party for taking on the Boy-Who-Lived.

Fortunately, Madame Pomfrey didn't see his sarcastic display as her attention was once again focused on Malfoy, who Harry was surprised to see, seemed rather more disturbed by the news that his parents were informed.

"Do my parents know about me being a Veela?" He asked with trepidation. His eyes met Snape’s almost fearfully. Snape shook his head.

"I thought it better to convey that to them in person. I intend to visit your mother in a few days’ time. Once I can bring them news that you are fully recovered. Your father of course cannot be reached at present." Malfoy nodded in understanding, relief clearly showing on his face.

"Well, as interesting as all of this has been," Harry began, "I think I'd rather continue my rest back in Gryffindor dormitory. I don't imagine I'd sleep well in a room with-" He glared at Malfoy, "in a room with someone who thinks it's okay to just siphon off my life force whenever it suits him."

Madame Pomfrey exhaled a long suffering sigh and said, "Honestly, the two of you are too much. Really, Mr. Potter I think it highly unlikely that there would be any repeat of that. I assure you that you are perfectly safe here in the hospital wing under my supervision."

"Let him go." Malfoy said. "I'd sleep better knowing my would-be murder wasn't in the next bed over."

Madame Pomfrey merely shook her head in resignation.

"Very well, if the two of you are so determined. I'd rather have kept you both under observation, but as Potter has been fully healed and isn't suffering from the residual effects of a dark curse or a full body transformation he, strictly speaking, doesn't really need to remain here. You may go Mr. Potter, but if you feel unwell or have any unusual side effects over the next few days I implore you to return to the hospital wing for further inspection." Harry nodded, surprised but pleased that Madame Pomfrey was actually going to let him leave.

He exited the hospital wing with a decided spring in his step. 50 points from Gryffindor was bad, certainly, but not insurmountable and frankly he had expected it to be much worse. He could make up that difference with a quidditch win.

As he walked away from the hospital wing his new scars grew cold, and were aching painfully by the time he reached Gryffindor common room.

 _'Fucking fantastic,’_ He thought to himself bitterly _'yet another scar that I have to deal with random unexplained pain from.’_ He remembered Madame Pomfrey's words about side effects, but immediately dismissed the notion of returning to the hospital wing. Achy scars he could deal with. That was just his life.


	2. Awkward Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry experiences some interesting side effects. Snape tells it like it is.

Author notes:

_Italicized words are character thoughts_

**_Italicized & boldfaced words are dream sequences or memories_ **

**Boldfaced words are in text reading materials (like books or letters)**

**000** Represents a shift in character perspective

 **0~0~0** Represents a shift in scene (often followed by the date the new scene takes place if it is on a different day than the prior scene)

Chapter 2: Awkward Conversations

Monday, 12/30/1996

**_Harry’s back was slammed painfully against the stone wall of the Room of Requirement when his lover’s chest forcefully collided against his. The shock of the impact tore the air from his lungs and when he tried to gasp for breath he found that his lips had already been entrapped in a wild and mercilessly all consuming kiss that dazed him. He couldn't break away, though, after the first initial shock passed, he realized that didn’t even want to. He was almost dizzy with the intensity of it, or was he dizzy from the lack of air?_ **

**_When their lips finally parted Harry inhaled greedily, the rush of air felt almost euphoric as it soothed his oxygen starved lungs. The enchanting chamomile vanilla scent of his lover wafted into his nostrils. He felt drunk with need._ **

**_Harry raised his heavy eye lids and caught the heated gaze of his partner. The quicksilver eyes burned into him with a frightening hunger. His lovers stare was indecent; it oozed wanton need and Harry thought it perfectly contrasted his lover’s otherwise angelic appearance. With chin length platinum tresses and pristine alabaster skin Draco looked like a winged seraph, but his eyes belied him. Draco Malfoy was no angel._ **

**_Draco’s lips had migrated across Harry’s cheek and were now trailing kisses along his jawline, lingering lovingly beneath his ear, alternately kissing and sucking until a love bite blossomed against Harry’s pale neck._ **

**_Harry was panting, breath still not recovered from the collision with the wall or the earth shattering kiss. He was struggling to form words, to respond in kind, to do anything. He was too overwhelmed by the pleasurable sensations that Draco was evoking._ **

**_His nipples were erect from the friction of their bodies writhing against one another. His knees were like water and he knew that Malfoy’s warm body and the stone wall behind him were the only reasons he was still standing upright._ **

**_His cock was hard from the titillating feel of Draco’s skin gliding against his, the heat of their mashed bodies, and the trickle of mingled sweat that ran down their heated torsos. Pressed as tightly against each other as they were, Harry knew Draco must have felt it too._ **

**_“I love you like this.” Malfoy's husky voice panted into his ear. One of his fingers traced a sensual line from Harry’s collar bone done to his now prominently visible erection. “Disheveled, flushed, and aching for me.”_ **

**_Malfoy took Harry’s earlobe into his mouth and bit down playfully, hard enough to sting but not hard enough to injure. His teeth grazed across Harry’s ear as he released him and Harry let out an involuntary mewl._ **

**_“Do you like that?” Draco whispered alluringly. Harry nodded unconsciously as his lover took the lobe back into his mouth, sucking this time, hard enough to bruise in the painfully pleasurable way that Harry was quickly realizing he loved. Harry scrunched his eyes in pleasure; all thoughts of stopping Draco long vanished from his lust clouded mind._ **

**_Draco took Harry’s mouth again, more gently this time, teasing his lips with gentle caresses. Tracing his tongue along the edges of Harry’s parted lips. Harry tried to deepen the kiss, but Draco refused to relinquish control, pushing Harry back against the wall. Holding him there, lips parted by a mere inch. Harry could feel Draco’s hot breath against his moistened lips._ **

**_Molten silver eyes bore into Harry and he felt like he was melting under the blazing heat of his lover's gaze. Draco closed the gap, once more crashing their lips together, and probed Harry’s mouth with his tongue. They kissed with a desperation that had been absent mere moments before._**

**_Harry sighed into the Draco’s hot mouth as he awkwardly clutched at the wall to support himself. Their bodies melded together and he could feel Draco’s need as it pressed insistently against his own. His hips jutted forward against the contact. It felt so damn good, but Harry wanted more, more friction, more Draco._ **

**_As if reading his thoughts Draco’s hand reached down, groping Harry forcefully through the stiff fabric of his muggle jeans. He moaned into the kiss appreciatively and Draco took that as an invitation to stroke harder and faster._ **

**_Harry tried to think through the lust clouding his mind._ ** _‘Draco Malfoy is kissing me. Draco Malfoy is fondling my cock.’ **His mind proved not up to the task of reconciling the pleasurable sensations and their dubious source. His mind was too lost to the sensation of Draco’s fingers, the smell of Draco’s hair, the taste of Draco’s lips.**_

**_“Malfoy.” Harry groaned when their lips parted for air._ **

**_“Hmm.” Malfoy hummed in answer, lips already latched back on to Harry’s abused neck._ **

**_Harry felt himself approaching his crescendo, he clutched desperately at Draco’s back, seeking purchase anywhere, needing something to ground him. The sensation of Draco’s expert lips against his neck coupled with the groping and the rutting of Draco’s prick against his thigh were too much. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer if it continued like this. He ran his fingers into Draco’s silky platinum hair and pulled him off his neck and into another fierce kiss._ **

**_Draco released Harry’s cock and used his hand to brace himself against the wall. Harry almost groaned in displeasure, but silver eyes met emerald and Harry’s melted._**

**_Before Harry could complain about the loss of contact Draco repositioned their hips, lined up their dicks and pressed forward into Harry as tightly as their bodies would allow. Harry couldn’t breathe. He didn’t even want to. Draco’s lips had recaptured his yet again and when he resumed his rutting Harry saw spots._ **

_‘Draco Malfoy’s cock is rubbing against mine.’ **He thought to himself over and over again as he was pounded into the wall. His back ached from being crushed in such an uncomfortable position for so long but the pain barely registered over the sweeping pleasure that was coursing through his cock. It was as if all of his nerve endings and all of his ability to feel had centered on that one location.**_

**_Draco’s breathing was labored now, and Harry realized with faint surprise that they had stopped kissing at some point. Now their faces hovered millimeters away from one another and Draco was looking into his eyes like he was lost._ **

_‘Maybe we’re both lost.’ **His mind thought whimsically. Harry could feel the familiar warmth pooling in his stomach again, a sure fire sign the end was near. Draco didn’t look like he had much left in him either. His eyes had glazed over and his thrusting was becoming erratic and desperate. Harry’s nails dug into Draco’s back as his body tensed, release jettisoning him to a height of euphoria he couldn’t recall ever having previously reached. Before his sated body even had time to relax, Draco followed on the wings of his climax shuddering against him.**_

**_“HARRY!”_ **

Harry awoke with a start, his heart still pounding from the dream. _‘What the fuck was that?!’_ He mentally screamed. He was panting from the dream, almost hyperventilating in his mix of horror and mortification. He was hopelessly tangled in is crimson Gryffindor sheets. He was uncomfortably aware that his cock was still semi hard and was clinging to his now sullied flannel pajamas. He flushed crimson as mentally replayed the details of the dream over in his head. Disgusted that it had left him in his current soiled state he forced himself out of bed and tried to put the incident into perspective. _‘It’s just a stupid nightmare, I’ve had worse, and at least no one else was here to see me like this.’_ He tried unsuccessfully to reassure himself.

With a wave of his wand Harry scourgified his pajamas and marched off to the 6th year boy’s bathroom to clear his mind and body of the whole incident. One long frigid shower later Harry thought he was ready to face the day, if not quite ready to put the whole mortifying experience completely behind him.

He noticed, to his displeasure, that his new scars were still aching with a dull but persistent pain and he clutched at them absently through his robes, bemused again by their startling coldness. _‘Hadn’t they been pleasantly warm in the hospital wing?’_ Harry dismissed the thought.

Years of dealing with his avada kedevra scar had taught him that such wounds were mysterious and confusing things. While he was less than pleased that he now had yet another thing to worry about, he was self-aware enough to know that he deserved it. He had almost killed Malfoy, and despite whatever Malfoy had been about to do to him nothing justified that. Harry wondered idly whether or not Malfoy’s sectumsempra scar was giving him trouble too.

A glance at the Grandfather clock in the Gryffindor common room informed him that he had missed breakfast, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. His emotionally unsettling morning had quite effectively destroyed any appetite he might have otherwise had and he didn’t really want to deal with other people right now. He wasn’t sure if he had perfectly recaptured his composure and the last thing he wanted was nosy busy bodies speculating on what was wrong with the chosen one this time.

Harry quickly traversed the common room. He managed, to his surprise, not to attract the notice of the few Gryffindors who were hanging about. He sighed in relief as he exited the fat lady. _‘Now what?’_ He wondered to himself. Wishing belatedly that he had come up with some kind of game plan before ditching his conveniently empty dorm room. Without any friends to hang out with or Malfoy to stalk, not that he would have chosen that particular vocation today anyway, Harry found himself adrift without purpose. For want of anything better to do he ended up wandering down to the school library to work on his winter vacation homework since thus far he had barely made a dent in it.

Lunch time came and went without him noticing. Harry enjoyed the solitude of the library, which was blissfully empty save for the taciturn Madame Pince. Harry had no particular friends among the few students who had remained over the holidays and his interactions with them during the holiday break thus far had fallen into two equally uncomfortable categories.

The first category being the fair weathered sort of acquaintances who had been the first to jump ship on him last year, when the Daily Prophet called him out as a nutter and who were now acting cloyingly friendly toward him. He couldn’t say what offended him more, the fact that they were blatantly trying to curry favor to secure his protection in the coming war or the fact that they all universally seemed to expect him to just forget their mistreatment of him last year.

The second category of people were at least mildly less repugnant. They were the people who seemed to think associating with him was a death sentence. As if Voldemort’s single minded pursuit of his demise wa _s_ a contagious affliction that they would contract if they spoke to him. Unlike the panderers they stoutly avoided and ignored Harry.

This seemingly undeserved ostracizing had at first confused and outraged Harry, but Hermione had pointed out to him that some people were just too afraid to be close to him. Though that had been a grim comfort, honest self-reflection had forced Harry to concede that an alarming number of those close to him had either died or been injured so he chose not to allow their coldness to bother him anymore.

At least he could take comfort from the consistency of their coldness, unlike the panderers who friendship could cave any moment. With all the chaos in Harry’s life he could appreciate the value of a little consistency.

Anti-social musings aside Harry spent the morning in a fit of unusual productivity completing both his transfiguration essay on human transformations and his potions essay on the healing qualities of Dittany. He made a considerable dent on his reading assignments for the History of Magic class too.

All in all he was feeling pretty accomplished. The homework had banished thoughts of Malfoy with more success than Harry had dared to hope for. Harry only noticed how long he had been studying when he saw the dying sunlight flitting through the library windows. The sudden awareness of how late it had gotten shot a painful jolt of hunger to through his body and his stomach growled defiantly at him.

Harry rose stiffly from his small study table in the corner of the library. His legs clenched in protest from the hours of sitting still. Harry noticed, with surprise that his scar, which had continued to dully ache throughout the day, suddenly stopped hurting as Harry descended the stairs from the 4th floor library to the Great Hall on the first floor.

He realized, as he thought about it, that it hadn’t ached quite as badly in the library as it had in his common room and he was concerned what the implications of that might be. _‘It hurts more the higher my altitude is?’_ He theorized. He certainly hoped not, because if so he didn’t want to imagine how that would affect his ability to play quidditch. _‘If the scar interferes with my ability to fly I will swallow my pride and ask Madame Pomfrey about it.’_ He resolved.

**0~0~0**

Wednesday, 1/01/1997

Draco awoke stiffly in his hospital bed. The starched inferior quality hospital sheets scratched against his sensitive Veela skin and he longed for the comfort of his silken Slytherin bed. _‘Fucking Potter.’_ He muttered to himself for the millionth time. This was now the fourth morning that he had awoken here and he was bored out of his mind.

He had almost immediately come to regret his endorsement of Potter being dismissed from the hospital wing. He thought, bitterly, _‘If I have to suffer through a week of tortuously boring confinement than Potter, the guilty party, should to have to as well. Besides, antagonizing Potter would have been something to do.’_

Madame Pomfrey left him mostly to himself. Only coming over every few hours to document his vital signs, but otherwise occupying herself with potion brewing and the restocking of her medicinal supplies for the upcoming term. Zero visitors had come to see Draco. Not that he had expected any students to come, Slytherins had almost universally gone home for the holidays, but he had hoped that his godfather would at least have returned to check on him. Draco hadn’t been able to speak privately with Severus on that first day when he and Potter had woken up and he was very anxious to discuss the implications of the Veela transformation.

Draco hadn’t been able to say anything in front of Madame Pomfrey, for obvious reasons, but his Dark Mark had vanished during his metamorphosis. He no longer felt a connection to the Dark Lord and he was fearful for his family how the Dark Lord would react to that. He needed Severus to know. He needed Severus to tell the Dark Lord that he was still faithful. That he hadn’t willfully deserted. He needed to know what the Dark Lord wanted him to do. It was all so overwhelming.

Draco found himself childishly longing for his mother. _‘She would understand. The Veela blood was from her side after all. Her grandmother had been a full-fledged Veela and they had been very close. She would know what I’m experiencing and what I need to expect from the future. She would likely even be happy and supportive.’_

Draco’s father was a whole other situation entirely. Though the wizarding populace at large didn’t view Veela heritage as a conflict with pure-blood status Draco couldn’t imagine his father being happy that his only heir would have to register as a magical creature. If his mother’s own Veela blood hadn’t remained dormant he sincerely doubted his father would have married her.

Though admittedly his father hadn’t had much choice in the matter. The marriage between Lucius and Narcissa had been an arranged one. A political alliance between the Malfoy and Black families. ‘No,’ Draco reassessed. _‘Whatever compunctions father might have had against mother for her creature blood would have been trumped by his sense of familial duty. He wouldn’t have dishonored his family and the Malfoy name by refusing the marriage his parents had arranged for him. He would just be bitter about it.’_

Just thinking about it made Draco, not for the first time, feel sad for his mother. She was a loving woman, forced into sharing her life with a cold and unfeeling man.

When he was younger he had idolized his father. He had tried to imitate his austere persona and had wanted to make him proud. But somewhere along the way he had come to accept that his father didn’t love him like his mother did. A point that had been driven all the more home when he had been forced to take the dark mark.

His mother had been horrified when, without so much as warning her, his aunt Bella had him taken to a death eater initiation and he had been branded. After his father had been sent to Azkaban due to the whole Ministry debacle the whole family had fallen out of favor with the Dark Lord and apparently it fell on his shoulders to return his family to the Master’s good graces. His crazy aunt Bella had been only too willing to escort him to his lifelong enslavement ceremony. He was given no choice in the matter.

 _‘Not that it would have made a difference even if he had. What the Dark Lord wants the Dark Lord gets. If Voldemort wanted him among the death eater ranks than there was nothing anyone would have been able to do. To go against the Dark Lord was to forfeit your life and the lives of your family.’_ It was a truth he had long since resigned himself to.

These dark brooding thoughts were interrupted when Potter suddenly stumbled into the room looking flushed and disconcerted, his hair managing to look even more mussed than usual.

“You’re still here?” Potter asked stupidly.

“Yes, Potter, half a week of intense observation has proved insufficient to assure Madame Pomfrey that I’m truly going to survive your murder attempt. She intimated an intention of keeping me here until the start of term.”

Harry blanched at those words, peaking Malfoy’s interest.

“Why is it that you find my confinement so distressing? Surely you’re not concerned for me?” Draco asked coyly.

“As if!” Potter rolled his eyes ostentatiously. “I was merely hoping to speak with her privately.”

“Oh? Got some embarrassing concern you can’t share in front of me?” Malfoy jeered. “Got boils in bad places? Perhaps a botched growth charm? Or are you finally going to have her reverse whatever curse it was that left your hair in that constantly horrid state?”

“Whatever Malfoy. I wouldn’t tell you if I was here to have a splinter removed. Knowing you, you’d find a way to use it against me. You could warp anything into a source of ridicule.” Potter retorted.

Draco nodded in agreement with his words.

“You flatter me. Though if you’re not willing to say it in front of me I’m afraid you’ll just have to wait until start of term. I do hope it’s not anything _too_ pressing?” Draco lilted his voice up in question.

“None of your business. I’ll just- I’ll just have to come back later.” He finished lamely, shuffling his feet and looking disconcerted again. Draco watched with interest as Potter paused at the door as if he didn’t really want to go.

“Having second thoughts?” Draco asked, amusement almost tangible in his voice.

“Piss off.” Potter shot him a rude hand gesture and marched out the door without looking back.

Moments later Madame Pomfrey emerged from her attached potions lab just barely missing the departing sounds of Potter’s angry footfalls.

“I thought I heard voices.” Her eyes swept across the empty hospital wing questioningly.

“Oh, you just missed Potter. He was just checking up on me. Wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to die and he wasn’t going to end up in Azkaban after all. He’s gone now.” Draco added unnecessarily.

“Pity,” she said, looking disappointed. “I would have liked to check on him while he was here. My research,” she hesitated for a moment. “Well I had some questions that he might have been able to answer.” She finished awkwardly, eyes not quite meeting Draco’s.

**000**

Harry stormed out of the hospital wing with his face bright red. Seeing Malfoy had been a shock, an uncomfortable shock. This was the first time they’d seen each other since Harry had begun having his nightmares. He refused out of hand to refer to them as dreams. Every night since he had left the hospital wing he had suffered the most embarrassingly erotic fantasies about Malfoy. All different, and all mortifyingly successful at making him mess himself.

He’d been able to dismiss it that first morning as a one off oddity, but Harry wasn’t stupid enough to believe that three consecutive nights of imagined passion with his worse enemy was a coincidence. Especially immediately following what had happened after their duel. He didn’t want to think about what these visions meant. Harry wasn’t sure he could wait until the start of term to talk to someone about this. New term was still three days away.

 _‘What are my choices?’_ He pondered as he paced the Gryffindor common room distractedly. _‘I can grin and bear it, and try tolerate another three nights of these nightmares. Not a tempting prospect. I can go back to the hospital wing and have this conversation in front of Malfoy. I think I’d rather die. Or I can go talk to Snape. He is the one researching Veela and as such he’s probably my best bet for figuring this out. And,’_ Harry reasoned with himself. _‘even if I wait and go to Madame Pomfrey she’s undoubtedly going to consult with Snape about it anyway. I should just save myself the extra three days of misery, swallow my pride and cut out the middle man.’_

Harry tried to hype himself up, but the idea of intentionally spending any amount of time with Snape was bad enough. The idea of doing so to tell him about the wet dreams he was having about the man’s godson was a whole other level of horrifying. Only the fact that the two alternatives were even less appealing managed to compel Harry through the Gryffindor portrait and down the corridors and stairs that ultimately led to the Slytherin Head’s office.

Harry took several deep calming breaths to bolster his courage before he knocked on Snape’s office door. The sound of the iron knocker as it struck the stone door reverberated and echoed ominously through the dungeon corridor. Harry heart sunk into his stomach in anticipation of the door opening and he almost turned and ran, thinking _‘Three more nights might not be so bad.’_ When the door opened and he was greeted by the surprised face of Severus Snape.

**000**

Severus’ shocked expression quickly dissolved back into the usual sneer he reserved for Potter, but he never the less made a sweeping motion with his arm for the boy to enter his office.

“To what do I owe this unexpected intrusion Mr. Potter?” He asked.

Potter clenched his fists tightly. He looked like he was having a hard time forming words, and Snape bristled in irritation at being made to wait. “I’m a busy man Potter, if you have something to say to me out with it. I have neither the patience nor the inclination to just stand here staring at you.”

“I’ve noticed some side effects.” The boy finally blurted, his face a furious shade of magenta.

Severus quirked his eyebrow in curiosity, but remained silent, waiting for Potter to continue. After several seconds passed in silence and it began to seem like Harry was just going to stand there again Severus opened his mouth, about to order the boy to either speak or leave when Harry took the hint and resumed speaking.

“May I please sit down?” He asked. The uncharacteristic politeness of the question struck Severus and before it even occurred to him to respond sarcastically he was motioning to the seat opposite his desk. Harry sank into the chair gratefully. Severus was surprised by how defeated he looked.

 _‘What could Potter possibly have to say to me that would have him looking this tormented?’_ He wondered. His mind immediately latching on to his as yet unconfirmed suspicions about Draco’s Veela response to Harry that first night.

“By side effects I presume you mean in regard to your incident with Mr. Malfoy?” Severus offered, when it seemed the boy had been struck with muteness yet again. He nodded, face still flushed. “Well what sort of side effects? You can’t honestly expect me to diagnosis your malady on so vague a description as ‘I’ve noticed some side effects’ and I’m not a mind reader.” Severus lip twitched into an almost smile. “Well, then again I suppose I am a mind reader aren’t I? Shall I just use legimancy on you then?” He asked. That threat jumped Potter into action as nothing else that he had said had been able to.

“No, NEVER!” Harry raised his hands defensively as if that would fend off a mental attack.

 _‘Interesting reaction.’_ Severus pondered to himself.

“Then I suggest you tell me why you are here Mr. Potter.”

The boy looked at him tensely then relaxed as a look of resignation settled onto his still red face.

“I think something happened when Malfoy siphoned my life force.” He admitted finally.

“Well, obviously Mr. Potter. I managed to infer that much from your presence here. Now either tell my what it is SPECIFICALLY that is ailing you or leave me to the work you interrupted when you, rather presumptuously, came here without an appointment.”

“I’m having dreams…” He said quietly. “And my new scars hurt.” He added quickly, as if to distract from the first admission.

“What sort of dreams?” Severus pressed, ignoring the second symptom for the distraction it was.

“The kind I’d rather not have about Draco Malfoy, if you catch my meaning.” Potter replied with defiance.

“Interesting.” Severus replied, nodding his head as he fit that new tidbit into his developing theory.

“No,” harry shot back former politeness instantly vanished. “Not interesting. Horrible, embarrassing, disgusting, yes, but not interesting. What can we do about this? What does this even mean?” Harry asked desperately, his angry tone dissolved into a pleading one.

“Well,” Severus contemplated his answer. He had been researching Veela nearly non-stop in the five days since the incident in the bathroom and in that time he had learned a great deal of interesting Veela lore. “As you know, I’ve been researching Veela ever since Draco transformed the other night. So far I haven’t come across a single mention of Veela siphoning life force from other witches and wizards.”

“Great so it’s some rare complication that we have no information on. Terrific.” Harry crossed his arms petulantly.

“Potter, if you allow me to finish rather than jumping to your own uneducated conclusions you may learn something. As I was saying, I found no anecdotal evidence of Veela siphoning life from random witches and wizards, however I’ve found countless records of Veela sharing life force with their mates to either heal themselves or to heal their mates. It is one of the better documented powers that Veela have, actually.”

“I’m not Malfoy’s mate.” Potter countered.

“No, you’re not. At least not yet. However, I believe that in his desperation to live, Malfoy may have instinctively initiated a bond with you. Now, an initiated bond is not the same as a completed bond. That is true. But, it would seem that an initiated bond proved sufficient to allow him access to your life force, and allowed him to heal himself.”

“Okay,” Harry looked relieved, calculating even. “So he latched onto me because I was the person closest to him and he needed someone, anyone to steal energy from. That makes sense. So we just need to get him to retract the initiated bond and the symptoms will disappear and we’ll both be fine.” He concluded with such a shining optimism that even Severus was loathe to crush it. He looked at Harry seriously and contemplated how best to break his next words to him.

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple Harry.” He began, surprising them both by using the boys given name. “Veela bonds can not be broken.”

“But you said that we weren’t properly bonded. If the bond isn’t complete than he should just be able to take it back.” Harry argued.

“I’m afraid that’s not how it works. Veela don't typically initiate bonds that they don’t intend to complete. Everything I’ve read indicates that the bond is usually consummated immediately following its initiation. Even in the few anecdotes I found where a Veela initiated a bond with an unwilling partner, the ‘side effects’ as you euphemistically referred to them, always eventually led the partners to accept their Veela mates.”

“This is bullocks!” Harry stomped the floor with his foot.

“Language Potter.” Severus scolded.

“No, really. So what you’re telling me is that I’m just going to be plagued with these side effects for the rest of my life then? Unless I what, marry Malfoy?" He pulled a disgusted face. “That’s ridiculous. I refuse believe that it is that cut and dry. Clearly no one has tried hard enough to break these bloody bonds. Obviously they weren’t stuck with Draco friggin’ Malfoy. But I will NOT stand for this. All because I was being nice. I was just being a good person. I was checking to see if he was alive. If I had just hung back- If I had just waited. It could have been you. What if you’d been the poor sap unfortunate enough to be nearest to Malfoy when he went into survival mode? Would you really just stand for this?”

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and fought what he was sure was an oncoming headache. “You’re misunderstanding what happened Potter. It would never have been me.” Severus explained, “Despite what you seem to think, Veela don’t just bond randomly. Some Veela go their entire lives without bonding at all rather than bond with an unsuitable partner. Draco may have been desperate and he may have bonded instinctively, but even in a life or death situation soul bonds are never haphazard. A Veela would never bond with someone who was fundamentally incompatible with themselves. The fact that his Veela instincts recognized you as a potential mate and latched onto you was neither incidental nor arbitrary.”

“Malfoy and I are the definition of incompatible. We’re oil and water. We’ve literally hated each other since the first moment we met. How can you even think I would be an acceptable counterpart to him? We loathe each other completely. ”

“Watch your tone, Mr. Potter.” Severus cautioned. “I’m not saying we have to give up. God knows I’d prefer my godson to end up with just about anyone else before you. So I will continue to research the issue. As you can see, I still have a large stack of books to get through; I’ve only barely made a dent.” Severus reached into the book shelf behind his desk and pulled out a small violet tome with curly writing which read, ‘Memoir of a Reluctant Veela Mate’. He slid it across his desk towards Harry.

“This is one of the books I’ve already gotten through. Since it is only one individual’s personal memoir I didn’t find it to be of particularly use for my more generalized research and as such I discarded it rather quickly, but given the similarities in circumstances between you and the author I think you might find it illuminating. Feel free to keep it.”

Potter took the book without comment, staring at the cover, his hand quivering almost imperceptibly.

“I’m afraid that’s all I can do for you today. I will let you know if I uncover anything worthwhile in my studies. I’m sure we will see each other soon enough when the Headmaster returns.” Severus said, pulling the boy back out from his reverie.

Potter nodded and rose from his seat. As he reached the office door he turned around and said barely audibly, “Please don’t tell Malfoy.” Then he was gone.


	3. Bearers of Bad News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are hit with bad news after bad news.

Author notes:

_Italicized words are character thoughts_

**_Italicized & boldfaced words are dream sequences or memories_ **

**Boldfaced words are in text reading materials (like books or letters)**

000 Represents a shift in character perspective

0~0~0 Represents a shift in scene (often followed by the date the new scene takes place if it is on a different day than the prior scene)

Chapter 3:  Bearers of Bad News

Wednesday, 1/01/97

Harry returned to his room in the Gryffindor dormitory, noting yet again that his Veela scars chilled painfully as he ascended the stairs to the seventh floor. He collapsed onto his bed in mental exhaustion. It was still only early afternoon, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to get up and do anything productive. His mind was too full of Snape’s revelations and his own oppressive sense of dread.

After a few hours of brooding Harry could bear his thoughts no longer. He searched for something he could do to distract himself. A quick glance of his room brought no immediately compelling options. He had already finished most of his homework, and frankly he didn’t think writing an essay for his History of Magic class would be sufficiently interesting to make him stop thinking about his dreams and the fact that they were never going to go away. He saw his broom and briefly considered taking it out for a fly, but a quick glance at the horrendous weather put a stopper on that idea. Finally, he remembered the book that Snape had given him at the end of their meeting.

 _‘Perhaps that won’t take my mind of this issue, but at least it will be productive thoughts rather than the useless sulking I’ve been doing for the last three hours.’_ Harry convinced himself as he reached for the purple tome he had cast onto his bed when he first entered the room.

The books cover was a deep shade of amethyst and felt velvet to the touch. The front was decorated only with elegantly inscribed words in gold leaf, **Memoir of a Reluctant Veela Mate**.

Harry opened the the book with mild trepidation as his conflicting desires fought inside him. He wanted to know more, he wanted to know what to expect and what was happening to him. But at the same time every increasing bit of knowledge he had come by so far had made the situation seem worse and he didn’t want to imagine how much farther things could fall. Curiosity won out of course. He wasn’t a Gryffindor for nothing and possessing the courage to face the unknown was kind of an unofficial House motto. Harry turned to the title page,

**Memoir of a Reluctant Veela Mate**

**By Edward Preston**

Harry’s heart leapt in his chest. _‘So I’m not alone, other people have experienced this!’_ He excitedly turned the page and began to read the memoir.

**Part 1: The Meeting**

**It all began in the summer of 1789. I had just turned seventeen and was preparing to enter my last year of Hogwarts. I thought, mistakenly, that it would be an uneventful summer a happy summer spent idling the days with my childhood sweetheart, Elizabeth, with whom I had just successfully become engaged with the blessing of both our families. She was two years my junior, though three years behind me at Hogwarts, and as such it would still be a few years before we could wed, but I was ecstatic all the same. She was my first love and had been my best friend since we were small children.**

**There is a muggle saying, “If you want to make God laugh than make plans.” I almost believe their God must exist and he must been in hysterics over me, because what blew into my town that summer, a whirlwind, a cyclone of mischance and fate, tore my life and all my preconceptions and beliefs asunder. There is no explanation, but that there was some greater plan for me. For that was the summer that I met Apollina.**

**Apollina and her family were recent immigrants from France, fleeing the growing unrest and violence impoverished muggles were inflicting upon the wealthy. I met her by pure chance. Having grown up in a manor fully equipped with house-elves I rarely found myself with the inclination to venture into the nearby muggle village. On that fateful day, I had an occasion to venture out from my familial bubble. I wished to purchase Elizabeth an engagement present. Something personal besides the ancestral family ring that was traditionally given. Finding such a gift required me to leave home and seek out a suitable merchant in town.  
**

**I had heard tell of a new and especially gifted jeweler who had recently moved into the region. Apparently he and his family had taken up shop in a nearby hamlet. and so there I ventured with a pocket full of muggle currency and a heart full of Elizabeth.**

**Nothing could have prepared me for what I found when I arrived in the jewelry shop that day. The shop radiated with powerful magic. It shocked me to my core as it washed over me like a wave when I entered. Foolishly, and thank heavens the store had no other customers at the time, I instinctively blurted.**

**“You can’t sell enchanted jewelry to muggles!”**

**The shop keeper’s eyes shot up to mine instantly and his face burst into a radiant smile. He hurried across the shop shutting the door behind me and turning the ‘open’ sign to read ‘closed’.**

**“Come in, come in.” He admonished me. Luring me further into his shop with excited sweeping hand motions. “You are the first wizard we have seen since we moved here two months ago.” He explained with undisguised joy.  
**

**“You can’t sell enchanted jewelry to muggles.” I repeated emphatically.**

**His eyes met mine with an amused glint.**

**“I remove enchantments before I sell them to muggles, but it would be both time consuming and disheartening to preemptively disenchant my entire inventory when I might yet find magical patrons.”**

**He went on to explain his reasoning for not setting up shop in Diagon Alley and what circumstances had particularly lead his family to this hamlet. But as those details are neither interesting nor relevant to my experiences as a reluctant Veela mate I shall not include them here. What is pertinent to my story however was his excitement at having at last encountered a fellow wizard in England and his insistence that I meet his family.**

**He encouraged me to peruse his fares whilst he rounded up his family to meet me. Since his merchandise had been what brought me here in the first place I could hardly argue with this request.**

**I had just settled on a particularly lovely enchanted topaz amulet when the shopkeeper, who had introduced himself as Pierre Durant, returned with his wife and daughter in tow. Both were strikingly beautiful, with long flowing blonde hair and fair skin, and I was struck in momentary surprise that Pierre, an average looking fellow, had captured the heart of such a woman.**

**His wife and daughter, Eloise and Apollina respectively, were introduced to me in turn. I immediately retracted my doubt of the sincerity of their relationship when I saw the unrestrained affection in his wife’s eyes as she approached him and joined in him welcoming me to their shop. Their daughter’s eyes on the other hand were all for me. Though at the time I niave attributed her interest to my being the first non-familial wizard she’d seen in months.**

**She seemed to take pleasure in leading me around the shop, showing me all of the pieces of jewelry that she favored and redirecting my attention when I focused on ones she didn’t like. Initially I found her antics amusing, after all it wasn’t as though I was shopping for her, but I became quickly frustrated when she refused out of hand to allow me to buy the topaz amulet for my fiancée.**

**She seemed rather put out that I was already engaged, even more so when I confirmed that I was only seventeen and had only been a legal adult for a month. I assumed that I would merely have to wait for her to leave and then would be able to purchase the necklace, but to my surprise and growing irritation her father refused to sell it to me as well. It seemed to me to be a recklessly over indulgent move for a businessman hoping to break into the wizarding market to refuse to sell his products just because his daughter childishly opposed it, but at the end of the day it was his store and therefore prerogative to deny me. So I left without buying anything.**

**I thought myself unlikely to see the family again. After all I had no purpose for their shop if I couldn’t buy what I wanted and I didn’t think our brief introduction a sufficient invitation for them to call on my family home.**

**I was however quickly abused of this notion. The very next day the entire Durant family came calling to my family’s Manor and a friendly acquaintance between the two households was immediately struck. Our region of England was scarcely populated with wizarding families at the time. Mine and Elizabeth’s families being practically the only two in the neighborhood and as such my parents were uncommonly receptive to the idea of broadening their social circle with new blood.**

**Under normal circumstances this wouldn’t have bothered me. I was happy enough for my parents to have made new friends, the Durants were pleasant enough people after all. But their daughter simply wouldn’t leave me in peace. Nearly every day they visited and nearly every day my plans to see Elizabeth were thwarted. After the first week I began to become quite incensed with the whole situation. My good manners and breeding prohibited me from expressing my displeasure at Apollina’s decreasingly subtle attempts to monopolize my time, but I never the less felt it deeply.**

**After two weeks of near isolation from one another Elizabeth began coming to me instead. At first this pleased me, but the animosity and almost palpable, if unspoken, tension that immediately arose between the two women was even more uncomfortable than my previous annoyance and guilt had been. And so the rest of my summer passed in the uneasy management of my frustrated fiancée and the childish French girl who, I eventually realized, had developed a crush on me.**

Harry sighed and flipped back to the front of the book again until he found the contents page. Interesting though this man’s memoir was, and Harry was sure he’d revisit the slow beginning at his leisure some other time, Harry had really wanted to get down to the unwanted bonding part of this tale and he didn’t feel like he had the patience for the speed this story was presently taking.

  **Contents **

**Part 1: The Meeting p.1**

**Part 2: The Following p. 20**

**Part 3: The Claiming p.48**

**Part 4: The Courting p. 62**

**Part 5: The Initial Bonding p. 95**

**Part 6: The Fall p.163**

**Part 7: The Aftermath p. 208**

Harry flipped to the beginnings of parts 2- 4 in turn, skimming each for relevance to his situation. None of them made any mention of Veela bonding at all and Harry was beginning to wonder at the validity of the book.

 **The Following** was all about Apollina’s transfer to Hogwarts, her beguiling of the sorting hat so that she could be placed in Ravenclaw with Edward and the ongoing angst her persistent flirting caused between him and Elizabeth.

 **The Claiming** continued the tale of his last year of Hogwarts, but went into Apollina’s public declaration of intent on him and her challenging of Elizabeth.

 **The Courting** covered her continued pursuit of him outside of Hogwarts, made all the easier by Elizabeth being younger and still being away at school. It went into his continual rejections of her advances and offerings of gifts and her increasing determination to woo his affections away from his childhood friend. Still no mention of Veela anywhere. Harry was really beginning to question how this story was supposed to help him.

Finally when Harry reached part 5 the book made good on its title and as such it was there that Harry resumed reading.

**Part 5: The Initial Bonding**

**My feelings were a desperate mix of horrified, angry, and confused. What had she done? Why had she done this? Being a pure-blood, I was familiar enough with Veela lore to know what a Veela bond was, but I had never heard of a forcibly imposed one, nor had her family given any prior intimation of their Veela heritage. I was effectively dumbstruck.**

**She looked into my eyes appraisingly, hopefully even, as though her simple action, her unprovoked attack at on me could have instantaneously morphed my feelings for her from irritation to adoration. She realized her mistake quickly enough when I forced her still bloodied hands off of me.**

**I felt a pang in my chest at the crushing look of dejection she shot me in that moment, but any sympathy I felt toward her was quickly overridden by my anger and indignation.**

**“Why did you do this?” I yelled at her. She quivered at the force of my accusation, as though she hadn’t thought it possible I could raise my voice at her. That, I realize now, was probably my own fault. Though she had been pestering me with increasingly infuriating unwanted attentions for a year and a half I had never once taken a harsh tone with her. I had always rejected her politely, as a gentleman would, citing my prior engagement to Elizabeth.**

**“You were engaged.” She began shakily, “Your sense of honor wouldn’t allow you to break your promise to Elizabeth to be with me. I respect that about you, I do. Your sense of honor is one of the things I love most about you. But you don’t need to worry any more. You’re free now. A Veela bond overrides any civilian legal binding.” She reached out for me hopefully, but I shook myself from her grasp and she dropped her arms looking stricken. Her face fell again. “I thought this would make you happy.” Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears as she clasped her arms around herself. I stared at her incredulously.**

**“You thought being magically bonded to you in an irreversibly way without my consent would make me happy?” I repeated, each word angrier than the last.**

**She cowed visibly but answered with dignity. “It is a great honor to be chosen by a Veela. And it is rare to be pursued as diligently as I have pursued you.”**

**“You mean it’s rare for a Veela to be rejected repeatedly.” I countered and if possible her face crumpled further.**

**“You were only rejecting me out of a sense of duty to that girl. Why are you displeased? You’re free of that now. Don’t you understand?” Her voice pleaded.  
**

**I stared at her in growing disbelief. She really didn’t get it. It wasn’t an act, or a ploy. She really truly thought it impossible that someone would willingly chose another over her. My anger dissipated and was replaced with the same frustration I’d been tolerating for the past eighteen months. She was like a child. A spoiled child used to getting what she wanted when she wanted it and unable to comprehend a scenario where that wouldn’t be the case. I gentled my tone and tried to make her understand.**

**“I love Elizabeth.” She flinched but I pressed on. “I have loved her since we were children. She was my only friend, my only wizarding child companion. The day that her parents accepted my bid for her hand was the happiest day of my life.” I explained and her face contorted into something resembling anger.**

**“Today should be the happiest day of your life. I have bonded you. Don’t you understand? We can be together now.” Her eyes pleaded, but staying firm I shook my head in dissent.**

**“I’m sorry Apollina. Perhaps I should have been more assertive in my rejection of your advances. Had I known you were a Veela or that you would have done something as foolish as this I would have made my feelings clearer to you. But as it is, this changes nothing for me. I am marrying Elizabeth when she comes of age next year.”**

**“You can’t!” She demanded, stomping her foot in a way that only reinforced my impressions of her childishness. “You’re mine!”**

**I heaved a long suffering sigh and fixed a glare at her. “You cannot stop me from marrying Elizabeth.” I replied with a gentleness that directly contradicted my furious glare and I stalked off, not waiting for her to explain the bond or any of the things I didn’t know. In that moment I was just as foolish as she was.**

**Having left without being informed of what to expect from the bond, my experiences that first night came as a shock to me. My knowledge of Veela lore, though sufficient in a pure-blooded education sense, was in no way adequate to prepare me for what would come.**

**I dreamt of her that night and on all the nights that followed. Dreams I shall not detail lest I compromise my dignity and her modesty, but which it shall suffice to say left me feeling guilty when I awoke each morning. I told no one of these dreams both because they embarrassed me and because I knew that they related to the bond and that as such there was nothing to be done about them.**

**More concerning than the dreams were the side effects I experienced while awake. The puncture wounds she bore into my forearms when she bonded me continued to pain me long after the wounds themselves were healed. I wasn’t vain enough to care about the scars they left behind, which I have come to refer to as my Veela mark, but I was concerned by the physical reactions they had to her proximity.**

**When I left her presence they grew cold and achy, when I remained apart from her they grew painful, and when I allowed her to be close to me they grew warm and pulsed pleasurably throughout my fore arm. Though I ignored these sensations to the best of my ability in retrospect I think they drew me to her. For despite my anger at her I found myself far more frequently in her company after the bonding than before it.**

**This of course affected me in other ways as well. I couldn’t very well spend all of my time arguing with her, especially since our visits were most often in the presence of our parents and such incivility would not have been tolerated. So I was forced to be a gentleman. Forced to socialized and engage in pleasantries, to hear her laugh and look upon her smiling face.**

**The most disturbing of the side effects was her increased ability to influence me with her allure and her pheromones. Her allure compelled me as an Imperious curse would do. I have no natural resistance to mind control and found myself unsuccessful at shaking it. One could argue that it is reprehensible that she would use such a power on me, but I admit I respect the restraint she showed. She could easily have used it to force me to consummate the bond with her and I would have been powerless to resist. Yet, she only ever used it to fulfill the most innocuous requests. She would use it if I refused to dance with her at a party, or if I refused to escort her on a walk on a fine weathered day. Namely she used it only when I was behaving ungentlemanly towards her. ** **Though I commend her now for how infrequently she made use of her allure in the early days of our bonding their effects were never the less very discomfiting to me at the time.****  
**

**Her pheromones were a more pressing concern to me. At times I’m not certain she was even consciously aware that she was releasing them. Though perhaps I am being naive in that assumption. In any case they posed the largest hurdle in my pursuit of composure and autonomy from the undesired bond we shared. Her pheromones made me sensitive to and hyper aware of her fragrant scent, the musical lilt of her voice, the elegance of her body movements, and her general beauty. Only when distantly removed from her and struck with the pain of separation would my mind free clear of the influence of her pheromones. Though to my own credit I never allowed them to dictate my behavior toward her. They only guided the train of my thoughts while in her presence.**

Harry took a break from reading to process the information he had just read. The concept of Veela allure was not new to him. He had witnessed it being used firsthand the summer when the Weasleys had taken him to the quidditch world cup. Harry felt fairly confident that he could resist that at least, it hadn’t affected him back in fourth year and since then he’d shown a gift for shaking off the Imperious curse which was unquestionably the stronger mode of compulsion. So that power, at least, didn’t particularly alarm him.

Edward’s description of the Veela scars perfectly matched his own observations. Though, on his own, he hadn’t connected the dots between the sensations in his scar and the proximity of Malfoy it made perfect sense. When he was in the dorms they hurt the most because his dormitory was on the seventh floor and the Hospital wing, where Malfoy was located at present, was on the first. It would also explain why the pain dulled when he went to the library on the fourth floor and why it disappeared entirely when he went to the Great Hall. He could vaguely remember the mark having felt pleasantly warm when he’d been in the hospital wing with Malfoy too.

This wasn’t a huge immediate concern, since they would never be too far from each other while at school, but it would obviously pose a problem come summer. Harry made a mental note to ask Dumbledore about that at some point. _‘That is, if Dumbledore ever gets back to school.’_ Harry bit back his growing frustration at the old man’s absence during this crisis.

Harry didn’t know what to make of the pheromone thing. He hadn’t experienced anything remotely like that thus far and he was as such holding back hope that maybe Malfoy didn’t have that ability since his was a transformed Veela not a born one. _‘This situation is bad enough without me drooling all over my arch rival.’_ Harry shuddered to imagine the ways a power like that could be used to humiliate him. _‘Why don’t I get any cool powers out of this crap situation?’_ He wondered. It seemed so unfair.

Harry of course couldn’t deny the applicability of the erotic dream symptom. Edward’s euphemistic description of it couldn’t fool someone who had experienced the phenomena first hand. However, Harry doubted that he would be able to replicate Edward’s easy indifference to it, but he suspected that might have to do with the genders involved. By Edward’s account Apollina was a beautiful woman and Harry felt sure be less upset about the dreams too if he were fantasizing about a beautiful blonde Veela every night.

 ** _'_** _You ARE dreaming about a beautiful blond Veela.’_ A treacherous voice in the back of his mind seemed to taunt him, but Harry refused to acknowledge its truth. _‘Malfoy is not beautiful.’_ He argued with himself.

Feeling he had read quite enough for one night. Harry made his way down to the Great Hall for dinner. More conscious than ever of the easing pain and growing warmth in his mark as he neared Malfoy. _‘Bloody Veela!’_ He cursed his bad luck, even as he rubbed the warm tingly scars with his fingers. When he walked past the corridor that led to the hospital wing he pretended not to notice the subtle magnetic pull that beckoned him.

“I don’t want to see Malfoy.” He declared out loud to no one in particular.

0~0~0

Thursday, 1/02/1997

Draco tapped his foot impatiently as Madame Pomfrey conducted her one-thousandth check of his vitals. Her persistence in keeping him in the hospital wing had long since outlasted even his pure-blood trained patience. He tried to console himself with the reminder that he was at least allowed to sit in a chair and wear proper clothes now. The first few days of being kept for observation purposes he had been kept forcibly bedridden and it had nearly driven him mad.

He had been mostly alone for these past five days, save for the one memorable appearance of Potter, and the continually annoying ministrations of Madame Pomfrey. Dumbledore had yet to return, and to his continued chagrin his godfather had not visited him since the day he woke up.

“Well you seem to be completely stabilized.” He heard the voice of Madame Pomfrey over his thoughts. “With your wounds fully healed and five days of unwavering test results I think we can assume that you are safe to leave the hospital wing now. I was initially worried by your temperature, as it was a few degrees higher than I would normally like to see, but Professor Snape assures me that it is perfectly normal for Veela to have elevated temperatures. It would seem that this is your new norm, Mr. Malfoy. You are free to return to your House dormitory.”

Draco’s heart leapt in his chest. This was better than he had dared to hope for. Students weren’t expected to return until tomorrow and that meant he would be able to talk with his godfather without attracting the unwanted notice of his nosy Slytherin peers. Draco hopped out of his chair in a very un-Malfoy manner, and beat feet for the door, not wanting to risk Madame Pomfrey changing her mind and making him stay the extra day after all.

As Malfoy hastened through the corridors descending into the depths of the Slytherin dungeons he briefly considered stopping off at his rooms to change. He had after all been stuck in the hospital wing with only cleaning charms to wash himself and his own fingers to comb his hair. Not to mention not having access to his particular hair products since before his fight with Harry.

But remembering who it was he was going to visit he realized the absurdity of his concerns. He’d bet ten galleons if he’d bet a knut that Snape could count the number of times he had properly shampooed his hair in the past year on his two hands. Not that he would ever voice these opinions to his godfather’s face, but the recollection reassured Draco that he wasn’t exactly at high risk of being judged by Severus for his atypically inferior level of hair maintenance.

Draco knocked on the Slytherin Head of House office door with trepidation, all of his fears flooding back into him with the remembrance of what news he was about to impart to Severus. His whole future, if he even had one, came down to what Voldemort’s reaction would be to his transformation and the Veela blood’s rejection of the Dark Mark.

Severus opened the door, one eyebrow rising at the sight of his guest. “Mr. Malfoy.” Snape nodded in greeting. “I wasn’t expecting you for another couple days; however did you manage to escape Madame Pomfrey?” He asked, eyes reflexively scanning the corridor for interlopers.

Draco pushed his way into his godfather’s office without replying and her door abruptly closed shut behind him. “I know why you’re here Draco,” Severus preempted him. “The Dark Lord is aware of the disappearance of your mark.”

Draco flinched. “And?” He asked, not needing to elaborate his question.

“I explained to him the circumstances surrounding your transformation. Though he was initially displeased that your body rejected the magical brand he had forge onto you, I believe I was able to convince him of the benefits of this occurrence. For one thing, the increased scrutiny that you will face both by Madame Pomfrey and Dumbledore when he returns would certainly have uncovered the Dark Mark if it were still present. Even now you and very likely your family would already have been questioned by Aurors and might even be in custody if Madame Pomfrey had seen that mark on your arm when I brought you into the hospital wing that night. While the Dark Lord is by no means a sentimental man, he is a pragmatic one. His servants are of greater use to him when their identities remain unknown to the public and better able to serve him if they are not incarcerated in Azkaban.”

“What will this mean for my mission? There’s no way I’ll be able to do the task he set for me now, not if I’m under the constant watchful eye of all of the Hogwarts staff.”

“Yes, Lord Voldemort is aware of that aw well. Thankfully I didn’t even need to point it out to him. He determined on his own that for the time being it would be prudent for you to abandon that mission.”

“So you’ll have to-?” Draco’s voice trailed off, even if Severus’ office was warded and Draco had no doubt that it was, Draco still wasn’t about to utter the phrase _‘kill Dumbledore’_ while standing inside of Hogwarts.

“No. It was never my mission in the first place. It was yours. My only involvement in it at all was my promise to your mother that I would assist you, or in the event of your failure, complete it for you. You have not failed. You have been ordered, by the Dark Lord, to desist. As such I have no compulsion to pursue it either.”

“I see.” Draco pondered that in silence for a few moments. Conscious that his godfather was watching him intently. Draco looked up and met his godfather’s too wearied eyes. “So what now? What does the Dark Lord want from me? What am I supposed to do now?”

His godfather sighed deeply, _‘Not particularly reassuring.’_ Draco thought.

“For the time being you play the part of the Malfoy heir. Study hard, get good grades, flaunt your wealth, and relish in the adoration of your peers. You would attract unwanted suspicion if you acted otherwise.”

“So I get to go back to just being normal, like I never even joined him?”

“You get to pretend that things are normal. There’s an important distinction there Draco, never forget that. I suspect that the Dark Lord will have many uses for you after you graduate from Hogwarts.”

“So I’ll be marked again?” Draco frowned, it had been the most excruciatingly painful thing he had ever felt, barring perhaps the sectumsempra curse Veela transformation incident, and he didn’t relish the thought of having to undergo it a second time.

“Unlikely, I believe the Dark Lord will find you more useful unmarked.”

“Meaning?” Draco’s voice didn’t quite tremble, years of Malfoy training had overcome that level of weakness.

“I don’t wish to scare you unnecessarily Draco. The Dark Lord has shared none of his intentions for you with me and therefore anything that I might say to you would be purely speculation on my part.”

“I want to know what you think, even if it is just speculation.”

Their eyes met and Draco felt his godfather reading his face for honesty, when Severus seemed to have accepted that he really did want his godfather’s opinion Severus continued.

“Fine, you’re right, there’s no benefit in coddling you. You aren’t a child any longer and if my fears are justified it would be better if you had more time to reconcile yourself than less. I believe the Dark lord will likely use you as a spy. Veelas are enchanting creatures and are incomparable skilled at securing the company of even the most elusive of partners. As a Veela you would be uniquely qualified to secure the support of wizards or witches that Voldemort wishes to join him, either by the control of your allure, black mail, or” and Severus’s voice hitched at the last option “by the incentive of your continued company.”

“Voldemort is going to whore me for followers!” Draco’s face blanched in horror and then as quickly flushed red in a mix of anger and shame.

“Pure speculation, Draco. As I said Lord Voldemort has not shared his intentions for you with me. He was only made aware of your Veela status three days ago and I have not spoken with him since that encounter.”

“But that is what you believe will happen.”

“Lord Voldemort’s anger over the disappearance of your mark evaporated the moment I explained the cause. I can only infer from that that he has some particular use in mind for a Veela death eater. My suggestions for what those uses might be are completely of my own invention and could very well be entirely off the mark.”

Draco nodded in understanding, still not reassured, but at least pleased that his godfather had deemed him mature enough to handle honesty.

“How did my motherreact?” He asked finally, not really wanting to continue brooding on Voldemort’s future machinations.

“Better than I expected. Being a properly raised pure-blood she wasn’t unaware of the history of intermingling between Veela and her ancestors. So she wasn’t caught unawares by your dormant Veela heritage. Your mother actual spoke fondly of her Veela grandmother and didn't seem at all put off by the idea of your transformation. Obviously she was also pleased that you didn’t die.” He continued.

“I take it you didn’t mention Potter’s involvement.” Draco interjected.

“I mentioned that he was the one to curse you. She were appropriately outraged. And had I not hinted that you attacked first I suspect your mother would have petitioned the ministry for Potter’s arrest. As it is we agreed that it is better for all parties involved if we avoid unnecessary ministry scrutiny.” Draco nodded sagely. “I did not of course tell her about Mr. Potter’s involvement in your recovery and I can’t impress this upon you strongly enough, you must not either. Life debts are not a trifling thing. It could be very bad for you if word were to get to the Dark Lord that you owed his sworn enemy your life.”

Draco guffawed. “Can it really be considered saving my life if he was the one who almost killed me?”

“I can tell you from experience that that distinction makes no difference. A magical life debt is a magical life debt. His mana undeniably saved your life.”

“So what? I owe him now. Bullocks!” Draco spat.

“How you choose to honor or dishonor your obligation to Mr. Potter is your prerogative. Let me just caution you again, speaking from experience, that an unfulfilled life debt can haunt you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing full well where the line between familiarity and disrespect lie between him and his godfather.

“See that you do.” His godfather finished ominously. Knowing a dismissal when he heard one, Draco picked up the books on Veela that his Godfather had gathered for him and he departed.

 0~0~0

Friday, 1/03/1997

Dumbledore’s return was as sudden and unexplained as his departure had been. On the afternoon before the return of Hogwarts students for second term Harry had been sought out while he was eating lunch in the Great Hall by of the school’s owls.

Harry immediately recognized the loopy elegant scrawl as that of his headmaster and he tore open the letter without even acknowledging the owl that had delivered it, a slight that earned him a firm nip on his fingers before the bird flew away.

**Harry,**

**I have been informed of the various goings on during my absence and I would like to speak with you and Mr. Malfoy this evening. Please fore go the Great Hall at dinner and instead join me in my office. There is much to discuss. I quite enjoy lollipops.**

**Sincerely,**

**Albus Dumbledore**

**Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**

Harry read through the letter several times, bile settling in his stomach. He didn’t want to see Malfoy, much less eat dinner with him, in a tight intimate setting, undoubtedly discussing their bond. Harry crumpled the letter in his hand. Harry stormed out of the Great Hall, appetite ruined yet again.

0~0~0

“Fantastic,” Draco grimaced. “I’ve only just escaped the bloody hospital wing and now I have to have dinner with the old man. Another person scanning me, pitying me, and lecturing me about fighting the golden boy. Just how I wanted to spend my first night of freedom.”

He obediently changed his course from the Great Hall to the Headmaster’s office. Having spent the whole day in the dungeons the owl had been unable to reach him and he only just received his dinner summons from a house elf as he was about to head up to the Great Hall for dinner. He found himself irrationally annoyed by this.

He of course had known that he would eventually have to talk to Dumbledore about what happened. One does not change species on school grounds without so much as a cursory inquiry of the Headmaster. But he still didn’t relish the encounter. After having spent the last several months trying to kill the old, his most recent attempt a scant fortnight past, he felt uncomfortable with the idea of a private dinner with him. The presence of the golden boy would surely only make it worse.

 _‘Speak of the devil.’_ He thought to himself as he approached the gargoyles guarding the headmaster’s office.

“Potter.” He sneered in greeting. Potter turned away but Draco noticed his neck flush red.

“Malfoy.” Potter muttered in obligatory response, pointedly looking anywhere but at him.

Potter was spared Draco’s snide remarks on his odd behavior by the sudden opening of the passage up to the Headmaster’s office and the booming greeting that emitted from it.

“Come on up boys!” The Headmaster’s voice beckoned. Draco watched in amusement as Potter bounded up the stairs clearly happy to get away from him, and followed behind as a more dignified pace. Malfoys don’t race up stairs.

A large round table had been set up in the middle of the office with four mismatched chairs arranged around it. Draco thought it looked very misplaced in the room full of books and magical devices, but kept his interior design commentary to himself.

Severus was already seated at the table, back ramrod straight and face dour. Dumbledore was sitting in a cushy armchair motioning invitingly for them to take the remaining two seats. Draco hastened his gait just enough to surpass Potter, claiming the comfier looking of the remaining two seats. He felt a momentary thrill of victory until he noted that his seat was next to Professor Snape. Harry would never have claimed this seat, despite its superiority and Draco realized how silly his sudden flash of competition over something so trivial must have looked. He felt a little embarrassed at his juvenile display.

“Thank you for joining me tonight,” Dumbledore welcomed them, “and on such short notice.” He added, eyes twinkling at Malfoy.

Unsettled By the old man’s stare Draco gaze shifted, drifting back over to Potter, who he was happen to note, looked even more disconcerted than he did.

“I understand that this year’s winter holidays have been unusually eventful.” Dumbledore continued, ignoring the obvious discomfiture of his audience. He saw Potter nodding in his peripheral vision.

A loud crack interrupted the pleasantries as several house elves, heavy laden with trays, appeared around them.

“We might as well begin eating,” Dumbledore continued. “I suspect tonight’s conversation may carry on for a while. There is a great deal for us to cover.”

Draco let out an exasperated sigh at that. Dinner was bad enough but he really was not going to spend his whole evening rehashing the bathroom fight with the old fool and his idiot golden boy.

“Is this really necessary?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking. “We fought. We’ve been informed, repeatedly, that it was bad of us and that fighting on school grounds is strictly prohibited, etc etc. We were punished accordingly. We get it.”

“We aren’t here to discuss the altercation in the men’s restroom. We are here to discuss the lasting consequences of the altercation. The unintended side effects, as it were.”

“You mean my Veela transformation?” Draco surmised.

“Yes, but more importantly the bond.” Dumbledore confirmed.

“The bond?” Draco asked, actually confused now. He saw Potter flinch at his question and his interest was further piqued.

“Does Mr. Malfoy not know?” Dumbledore was directing his question at Severus now. Severus’s eyes glanced at Draco and then trailed over to Potter, who Draco noted, was looking almost ill now. Dumbledore’s eyes followed his godfather’s to Potter whose cheeks tinged pink.

“I thought it prudent to wait until you returned. I thought you might be able to shed more light on the situation than I could provide.” Severus explained, receiving an acknowledging nod from Dumbledore.

“I have had more exposure to Veela than most can claim. One of the benefits of old age, I suppose. Well I won’t bandy about the subject then. We wouldn’t want to linger here all night. Mr. Malfoy,” Dumbledore’s eyes locked onto him once more. “a week ago you nearly died. Your body transformed into a Veela in an attempt to heal itself. But your mana, your life and magical energy that is, proved insufficient to handle the dual tasks of transforming and healing your body and as such you siphoned the energy you needed off of Mr. Potter here.”

“Yes, they told us that day ago.”

“Yes, well days ago Madame Pomfrey and Professor Snape were uncertain of what that meant. Neither of them had extensive knowledge of Veela at the time and though Snape suspected what I’m am about to confirm, he felt it unwise to voice his suspicions until he had conducted further research, which he has since done.”

“Okay? And what might I ask was the fruit of this research?” Draco asked, annoyed that he was obviously the only one in the room still in the dark. He felt suddenly certain that whatever it was Dumbledore was dancing around was the same thing that was making Potter avert his gaze and look ill.

“When you latched on to Mr. Potter and shared his mana, you marked him. You accidentally initiated a Veela mate bond with him.”

Draco processed the words for a few moments, letting them marinate in his mind. “Okay,” He said finally. “So how do we unbond?”

“I’m afraid that isn’t possible Mr. Malfoy.” Dumbledore returned solemnly.

Draco shook his head. “This is absurd. I would know if I was bonded to someone. I would feel it. I haven’t felt anything toward Potter since the accident.” _‘Not true,’_ he immediately thought to himself, remembering how he had been longing for Potter to return to the hospital wing, regretting that he had let Madame Pomfrey release him. He banished his treasonous thought in time to catch Dumbledore’s reply.

“It is true that an initiated bond has considerably less effect on the Veela than in does on the Veela bonded. But, I assure you it is there. Harry I’m sure can confirm this.”

 000

Three pairs of eyes locked on to Harry and it took all of Harry’s self-control to settle his face and hide the nature of his embarrassment. Still not looking at Malfoy Harry nodded.

“I have noticed the bond.” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled at him encouragingly and he continued. “I have experienced some side effects which, Professor Snape has assured me are indicative of an initiated Veela bond.”

“Such as?” Draco asked. Snape looked like he was about to respond, but Harry interjected.

“None of your damn business, Malfoy! Since it doesn’t affect you it doesn’t concern you.” Harry spat.

“Boys, this hostility is hardly conducive. The two of you really ought to try to resolve your differences. It will make things easier for you in the long run. Especially when you decided to complete the bond.”

“That will never happen.” Harry stood up now, fists clenched.

“Harry,” Dumbledore’s voice was tinged with sympathy now. “If the two of you don’t complete the bond than your symptoms will persist indefinitely.”

“I’m prepared to accept that.” Harry declared.

“What on earth are the two of you on about? Complete the bond?” Malfoy asked, looking to his Head of House for answers.

“Draco, what the headmaster and Mr. Potter are eluding to is consummation.” The color drained from Malfoy’s face, but Snape continued on as though he didn’t notice. “Normally an initiated Veela bond is consummated almost immediately. It’s highly atypical for Veela to bond with partners who they don’t preemptively know will accept them. I was able to find only a handful of mentions of initiated bonds at all, most Veela texts just bunch them together with the more important consummated bond as it is highly unusual for the two to not occur simultaneously.”

“And what did you find Severus?” Dumbledore encouraged him to continue.

“In all but one instance the bonds were eventually consummated. The intended Veela mates eventually succumbed to the temptation of their Veela partners.” Snape answered.

“And in the one case where they didn’t?” Harry asked, suddenly feeling hopeful. Snape hadn’t mentioned any outliers during their last conversation.

“It’s a sad story. A young Veela woman initiated a bond with her chosen partner, but before they could consummate their bond, a jilted admirer of hers barged into their home and killed her intended. Thus preventing them from completing their bond and becoming full Veela mates. On the bright side, though bereft and depressed, she managed to survive the loss of her intended and many years later eventually found love again and bound herself to another. A second bonding would not have been possible for her if she had consummated the first. Once fully bonded a Veela will waste away in pining at the loss of their mate. So really, in a morbid way, she was fortunate that she lost her intended when she did.”

Harry deflated as Snape told the story, collapsing back into his chair crestfallen.

“So if Potter dies I’m fine then?” Malfoy broke the heavy silence, smug smile at odds with the dark tone of the room.

“That’s a real comfort to me I assure you.” Harry jibbed back.

“Boys!” Dumbledore silenced them. “This is not a joke. This bond is unbreakable and the two of you would do well to accept that. Fighting it will only make things exponentially worse for both of you.”

“How is that exactly?” Malfoy interrupted. “However this initiated bond thing affects me, if it affects me at all which I'm not convinced it does, it is clearly so inconsequential that I don’t even notice its presence. On the other hand if we were to complete the bond, which let me just join Potter here in affirming will NEVER happen, I would put myself at risk of wasting away in sorrow if Potter died. Newsflash, he practically dies every year. Even if the manner of completion weren’t so completely repugnant to me, and I had even the vaguest desire to spare Potter from whatever his unnamed torments are I still wouldn’t bond with him. I’m a Malfoy. Malfoys don’t put their necks on the line for other people, much less for people like him.” Malfoy jutted his thumb at in Harry’s direction for emphasis. “It’s just not done.”

Dumbledore looked disappointed but said only, “The choice whether or not to accept and embrace the bond that you share of course lies between the two of you. It is neither my place nor my inclination to impose my opinions upon the sexual choices of my students, but know this Mr. Malfoy, just because you have not yet become aware of how the bond affects you that does not mean you are immune to it. It binds you just as it binds Mr. Potter and with time I am certain that you too shall perceive the effect it has on you. I hope that eventually the two of you will mature sufficiently to reevaluate the needless hostility the two of you bear toward one another. You’re bound together for life and continued infighting will only make the two of you miserable.”

“Duly noted, can I go now?” Malfoy asked snidely. Dumbledore nodded his head in resignation. Malfoy stormed out of Dumbledore's office. Harry followed shortly thereafter, preferring a risked encounter with Malfoy over the continuation of this conversation with Dumbledore.

 _‘I’d actually prefer to follow Malfoy than stay and talk with Dumbledore. Can my life get any weirder?’_ Harry wondered.


	4. Keep Awake and Keep It Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two boys are breaking down and while one finds his salvation in a bottle the other finds it in Luna Lovegood.

Author notes:

_Italicized words are character thoughts_

**_Italicized & boldfaced words are dream sequences or memories_ **

**Boldfaced words are in text reading materials (like books or letters)**

000 Represents a shift in character perspective

0~0~0 Represents a shift in scene (often followed by the date the new scene takes place if it is on a different day than the prior scene)

Chapter 4: Keep Awake and Keep It Together

Friday, 1/03/1997

As Draco stalked out of Dumbledore’s office, his cool facade was cracking.

 _‘I can’t go back to the Slytherin common room like this.’_ He thought to himself as he took a left toward the entrance hall rather than the stairs that would have led to the dungeons. _‘Even with the scant Slytherin showing the holidays have, there’s no way the common room would be vacant at this hour. Dinner just ended for fuck sake.’_ He cursed Dumbledore for having timed this bomb dropping in such a way as made it impossible for him to even return to his room.

Since leaving the hospital wing the day before Draco had managed to avoid contact with any students except Potter. He knew that his privacy couldn’t last, but he’d rather answer to his friends for his changed appearance than to the random Slytherin dredges that hadn’t had worthwhile homes to return to over break. No, he couldn’t avoid being seen forever, but he could avoid being seen like THIS.

He opened the doors that lead out to the Hogwarts grounds and took a deep refreshing breath as the brisk winter air whooshed around him. _‘Yes, going outside is the right idea.’_ He thought to himself as his feet crunched on the newly fallen snow.

Whether it was his fuming anger or his Veela blood, Draco didn’t know, but the cold didn’t seem touch him and he felt no compulsion to summon a cloak. He just trudged onward to the Great Lake, which had arbitrarily become his destination. His hands flexed and unflexed as his mind raced through everything that had happened over the past week.

“Am I always going to be waiting for another shoe to drop?” He mused to himself bitterly. “How many fucking shoes are there?” He counted on his fingers as he listed.

“Let’s see,

1) Potter caught me sobbing over my failure to serve the Dark Lord, that was delightful.

2) I almost died, always a treat.

3) I’m grotesquely scarred” His fingers impulsively reached up to his chest tracing the imperceptible ridges of his sectumsempra scar through his jumper.

“4) I’m a fucking VEELA.

5) Apparently I owe Potter a life debt, which is complete bullocks.

6) The Dark Lord wants to pimp me out like a common slag, and if that weren’t a sufficiently horrifying fate,

7) I’m permanently and irrevocably soul bound to Harry Bloody Potter!”

Draco shook his head angrily as he stared out at the lake. On impulse he summoned a stone and threw it into the lake with an angry shout,

“WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT FROM ME?”

“He probably wants you to not yell and throw stuff at him.” A female voice responded. Draco swiveled on the spot in mortification and found a blond girl with an absurdly long rainbow striped scarf and what looked like radish earrings.

“Excuse me?” He asked dumbfounded.

“The giant squid, you asked what he wanted. I was just pointing out that it probably isn’t rocks and raised voices. You catch more flies with honey as they say…” Her voice trailed off and she looked dazedly around them as though she could see the alluded to flies.

“You’re strange.” He replied.

“Everyone says that.” She assured him.

“And rude, I was having a private conversation.”

“With the giant squid?” Her eyes lit up. “How interesting. Do you often converse with him?” She prattled on excitedly without giving him a window to respond. “And can you speak to all sea creatures or is it just squids?”

Draco shot her an exasperated glare, unsure if she was taking the Mickey or if she was really just that barmy. “I wasn’t yelling at the Squid. I was just talking to myself.” The words blurted from his mouth before he could realize that they were in themselves an embarrassing admission. “I mean, I was just speaking out loud…”

A look of acknowledgement tempered with disappointment flashed across the girls face. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. I won’t judge you for talking to yourself. I talk to myself all the time. I’m an excellent listener.” She fell silent as if for emphasis. Draco waited for her to continue, but she didn’t, she just kept watching him with infuriating thoughtful eyes.

“I’m not here to amuse you.” He finally broke the silence.

“But you are amusing, or at least interesting. It’s hard for me to tell the difference, most people aren’t amused by the same things I am.” She added self reflectively.

“Listen, I’m not really fit for company at the moment. In fact I came out here with the express intent to be alone. Why are you even out here?”

“Oh, I was just walking back to the castle from Hogsmeade. My father got an urgent lead on a Crumple-Horned Snorkack sighting, so he had to drop me off back at school a day early. I don’t mind though, it could be the story of his career if he catches it.”

“Right.” Draco had no idea what else to say about that. “So, if you could just go inside…”

The blond grinned reassuringly at him. “Things are never as dark as they seem. My mother used to tell me that. I used to be afraid at night when the lights were turned out because I couldn’t see anything. But she told me that I just had to accept that it would be dark for a little while and then my eyes would adjust to the changes and I’d be able to see again.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You need to adjust to your changes so that you can see.”

“What do you know about my changes?” Draco was instantly defensive. He wasn’t sure how much she had heard him saying and he really couldn’t risk word getting out to the Dark Lord that he was Veela bonded to Harry Potter.

“I know that people don’t grow three inches in as many weeks and that your hair looks shinier than before. But don’t worry, I’m more observant than most people are, I doubt very many people will know you’re a Veela now.”

“You heard me. You heard everything.” Draco’s hand instinctively sprang for his wand; he needed to obliviate her or something. She raised her hand soothingly.

“Well. You were speaking out loud, not recommended if your intent is discretion. But you needn’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. I don’t have anyone to tell anyway and even if I did I wouldn’t. This is between you and Harry.”

“You’re on a first name basis with Potter?” He scoffed. Figures a weirdo like this would be one of his groupies. He was a magnet to undesirables. Her eyes met his in a strange cross between defiance and amusement.

“I call him Harry because he calls me Luna. He’s one of the only people who calls me by my first name; most people just call me Loony Lovegood.”

“I can’t imagine why.” Draco rolled his eyes emphatically, but she seemed to take him at face value.

“Thank you.” She smiled at him, and continued explaining. “Harry was my first friend. He can see the thestrals too. For the longest time I was the only one. But I expect that is already changing, soon lots of people will be able to see them.” She teetered back and forth on her heels in what Draco assumed was a nervous habit and looked thoroughly depressed at that prospect of other people seeing her fictitious creature. Draco had no idea what to make of that, nor could he imagine why Harry would indulge her delusions in the first place. He remembered again what she had overheard him saying and his hand tightened on his wand with a white knuckled ferocity, but he couldn’t bring himself to curse the whimsical but now inexplicably sad girl in front of him.

“You can speak of this to no one. If the Dark Lord knew…”

“You don’t need to threaten me. I would never betray Harry’s secrets. He’s been through enough. So have you.” She added, her eyes flashed to his arm and he blanched, just how observant was this girl?

“You should go inside.” She remarked, her voice losing its airy lilt. “Even if you are a Veela it’s still not good to go out in the dead of winter in nothing but a light jumper. That’s crazy.”

Draco couldn’t say if it was because of the sudden cold gust of wind that hit him or the absurdity of being called crazy by the strangest girl he’d ever met, but Draco actually followed the blonde back up to the castle. When they got back inside the entrance hall the girl halted in front of him with her hand extended into his personal space. His pure-blooded manners reacted faster than his thoughts and he accepted her hand.

“It was nice to meet you Draco, you may call me Luna.” Draco swallowed his retort that he hadn’t told her that she could address him by HIS given name, but that seemed childish even to his own ears. Besides, he couldn’t afford to piss her off, she knew too much. So instead he replied.

“It was interesting.”

“Now I have six friends.” She beamed, smiling at their still clasped hands brilliantly.

 _‘What is with this girl?’_ He wondered, shaking his hand out of her grasp as unobtrusively as he could.

“You’re not a Gryffindor are you?” He asked, looking at his hand like he was wondering if he needed to wash it now.

She laughed as though she could read his thoughts. “No. None of my friends are in my house. I’m Ravenclaw.” She said this matter of factly and Draco was struck by the fact that she didn’t realize it was sad that she had zero friends in her own house.

“Better than Hufflepuff.” He replied in a weak attempt at reassurance. He wasn’t quite sure how to reconcile his indignation at her absurd claim of friendship, his need to stay on her good side so she kept his secrets and his curiosity at her general oddity.

Luna just shook her head.

“You’re going to have to REALLY adapt if you want to see again.” She said finally. “I should get going; I need to tell my head of house I’m back early.” She started skipping away, but she turned around just before she was out of his sight. “Things will be okay Draco. Not all shoes have to be bad.” Then she disappeared around the corner and left Draco gaping after her.

 _‘What was that?’_ Draco played back their whole encounter in his mind and was left with two take aways. Firstly, Potter had the weirdest taste in friends, no surprises there. Secondly, and more surprisingly, he wasn’t upset anymore. The surrealness of the encounter had effectively jolted him from his mini panic attack.

He made his way back down to the Slytherin dorms in much better spirits. Weird though her words were they were oddly comforting too. Not all shoes had to be bad. After all, Potter had been severely punished for the bathroom incident which more than compensated for having been seen crying. He hadn’t died. His new scar wasn’t THAT bad and all his former scars had vanished. Being a Veela wasn’t a bad thing in its own right, and he would very likely have all kinds of cool new powers because of it. Whatever Severus said to the contrary Draco didn’t feel like he owed Potter anything, much less a life-debt and he wasn’t adding that stress onto his already full platter. The future forced prostitution thing was still unquestionably awful, but with his dark mark removed complying with the Dark Lords wishes was a choice in a way it wouldn’t have been a mere week ago, and whether or not he chose to act on that new freedom it was undoubtedly a blessing. As for the Veela bond, Draco didn’t know how to feel about that. The whole situation was just too new, too unsettled. No he would wait for the chips to fall before he came to any real opinion on his Veela inheritance.

But the girl was right. Not all of the things had to be bad. He could adjust to the new hand his life had dealt him. He was a Malfoy, and adapting to changing tides and twisting them to your own advantage was what Malfoys did best.

 0~0~0

Saturday, 1/04/1997

**_Harry’s back arched in surprise as the slicked finger circled his puckered rim._**

**_“I’m going to make you feel so good tonight,” His lover soothed him, a reassuring hand pressing his bucking hips back onto the mattress. “I promise.”_ **

**_Emerald eyes met silver and Harry nodded. The gentle swirling motion recommenced and Harry allowed himself to give over to the strangely pleasurable sensation of Draco’s touch. Once Harry relaxed the finger became bolder, probing into his opening experimentally, alert to Harry’s responses. When Harry didn’t protest Draco sheathed the whole of the digit, flexing in subtle tantalizing ways._ **

**_“You’re so tight.” Draco remarked, his finger twirling inside Harry now, making him squirm. Harry blushed but said nothing._ **

**_Draco removed his finger without warning and Harry’s breathing hitched in displeasure._ **

**_“Don’t worry; I’m just getting more lube.” Draco explained, eyes glinting in amusement at Harry’s wanton display. He slicked his second finger and delved back in, slower now, but more purposeful._ **

**" _It’s strange.” Harry said, not complaining._ **

**_“It will feel better in a minute, I promise.” Draco leaned over Harry now, brushing his lips against Harry’s in a promise. His fingers grazed Harry’s pleasure spot and Harry gasped into his mouth in surprise. Draco took the opening to slip his tongue passed Harry’s parted lips, exploring his heated mouth while his fingers massaged the velvety knob within him._ **

**_Harry moaned as he was penetrated at both ends. His hips rutting into Draco’s touch while his arms latched around Draco’s neck, holding Draco in place while deepening the kiss, inviting Draco’s tongue to probe harder._ **

**_The flush of his skin and the unconscious jutting of his body toward Draco spoke of Harry’s growing desperation. His emerald eyes had glazed over with a faraway look. Draco used his free hand to unbutton his own trousers, liberating his own weeping cock. Bracing himself against the bed he lined the two dicks up, never ceasing in his kissing or his insistent probing of Harry’s nether regions._ **

**_Harry was so lost in his own pleasure that he didn’t notice what Draco was doing until he felt a hand grasp his cock roughly, pressing against what he immediately knew must be Draco’s own._ **

**_Harry released a soft gasp as Draco began masturbating them together in tandem with the thrusting of his fingers. Their precum was leaking liberally, coating Draco’s hand and making the sensation of his stroking all the more intense. Harry could feel the end coming now. It was too close, too soon, but between the electric flashes of pleasure Draco’s fingers were shooting through is body and the firm and increasingly erratic ministrations of his other hand Harry was on the edge. Draco’s breath was ragged on his lips as Harry looked into his eyes pleadingly._ **

**_“I’m going to cum.” Harry mumbled into the now distracted kiss. Draco’s eyes immediately latched on to his, and his grip on their joined cocks tightened, stroking firmer and faster with a purpose._ **

**_“Come for me, Harry.” He said, breaking the kiss for the first time in several minutes. Unable to disobey a command like that Harry exploded, arse tightening around Draco’s still moving fingers, semen splattering both their chests. Draco quickly followed; spurred by the erotic display he added his seed to the mess between them. “I love you.” Draco whispered into Harry’s mussed hair._ **

Harry shot up in his bed, angry, now. And with disgusted resignation he scourgified himself and threw on his robes. He’d shower later but he needed to do something about this now before inaction drove him insane. Harry distinctly remembered hearing Hermione complaining about the abuse of keep-awake by fifth and seventh years studying for their O.W.L’s and N.E.W.Ts.

As a prefect she had made it her mission to clamp down on the use of stimulants in the Gryffindor dorm. Unfortunately, and she had lamented this ceaselessly, most of the students were getting their potions from a Ravenclaw seventh year, Alvin Crawley. Since brewing keep awake isn’t against the rules she had no authority to stop him from selling it to fellow students and it stuck in her craw something awful.

Harry knew for a fact that Crawley had stayed over the winter hols, so few students had that it was easy enough to remember the names, and he figured if he were going to buy the potion he’d be better off buying it now before Hermione and the rest of the student body returned to the school in the afternoon. He made his way down to the Great Hall, sighing in relief as he found the Ravenclaw sitting alone at breakfast. He nonchalantly sat beside him, but the Ravenclaw wasn’t fooled. A knowing grin crept up onto his face as he asked.

“What can I do for you?”

Harry looked around suspiciously; making sure no one was eavesdropping. Not for the first time he found himself profoundly grateful so few students had stayed this year. There were only three other students in the great hall at the moment and none of them looked to have the vaguest interest in what him and Crawley were talking about.

“I’ve heard that you sell keep awake.” Harry probed. The Ravenclaw’s grin broadened.

“You’ve heard correctly.” He replied, giving Harry an appraising look. “You’re a sixth year.” It wasn’t a question.

“Tests aren’t the only reason not to sleep.” Harry answered cryptically. The Ravenclaw’s smile faded a bit at Harry’s ominous tone but he was enough of a businessman to not spoil a sale with unwarranted nosiness.

“Five sickles a bottle, or a case of ten bottles for three galleons.” He quoted his prices. Harry smiled.

“I’ll take the case.”

 0~0~0

Feeling surprisingly lighter, Harry practically skipped on his way back from the Ravenclaw dorm. He knew that this wasn’t really a solution to his problem. Even Harry was smart enough to know he couldn’t fore go sleep forever. Yet somehow the thought that he had done something, even if it was only a temporary solution to one of his problems, to help with his seemingly hopeless situation felt like a victory. Whatever Dumbledore and Snape might say Harry refused to believe that there was no way out of this. He would find a way. And in the meantime he would just have to deal with the symptoms as best he could.

He was not going to let himself have another night like the previous. The nightmare that he had just experienced was the last straw for him. His other dreams had been disturbing. How could erotic fantasies about Draco friggin’ Malfoy not be? But he’d been able to rationalize his body’s reactions to dreams about kissing, rutting, and hand jobs, after all he _was_ a teenage boy and those activities felt good. Harry wasn’t ashamed that those were things he’d like to be doing with someone. They were sexually appealing activities, things he had voluntarily fantasized about, though admittedly not with Malfoy as his co-star.

But what he had dreamt about last night had just confused him. Varied though his teenage fantasies had often been he had never imagined himself enjoying anything sexual, down there, and he didn’t want to think about what it meant that his body had reacted so positively to that act. He pushed the alarming thoughts out of his mind. _‘Stupid Veela curse!’_

Not wanting to spoil the brief mood lift that purchasing the keep awake potions had granted him Harry grabbed his firebolt and went outside to clear his head of all of the Veela nonsense. Thanks to his isolation over the holidays he’d already finished all of his homework anyway.

 0~0~0

 Saturday, 1/04/97

Harry stormed back into the castle in a foul mood to find it bustling with activity. Apparently the Hogwarts express had returned while he was outside and now the corridors were swarming with returning students excitedly chattering about their holidays. He had admittedly been outside for a few hours, but he hadn’t realized that it had been that long.

His face was frozen and the rest of his body was numb from his prolonged exposure to the cold, but he didn’t care. The numbness eased his pain. His scar had flared up when he left the castle, and the pain had become increasingly unbearable the farther he had gotten from the castle. He knew now, thanks to his Memoir of a Reluctant Veela Mate book that it was a reaction to his bond with Malfoy, but knowing the cause didn’t do much for improving his attitude about it. It figures that in addition to everything else Malfoy would manage to ruin flying for him.

Being the stubborn Gryffindor that he was, Harry of course refused to give up that easily. Just because the quidditch pitch was too far away that didn’t mean that Harry couldn’t fly at all. Harry found, with a little experimentation that if he flew close enough to the castle and stayed low to the ground that the ache in his scar was at least tolerable and he managed to fly for a few hours before the cold finally forced him indoors. As he dismounted outside of the entrance to the castle he noticed with satisfaction that the pain in his Veela mark was subsiding.

 _‘Small miracles.’_ He muttered to himself, relieved that his fear that the pain would persist since he had refused to remedy it for so long was unfounded.

As Harry wove between the bustling flow of returning students up to his dorm he was both relieved and anxious to see his friends. He had decided after the meeting in Dumbledore’s office that he was going to keep his bizarre bond with Malfoy a secret. He hated betraying the confidence that they had in him by keeping something of this magnitude to himself but he really couldn’t bear the thought of Hermione’s questions or Ron’s unveiled disgust. It was already horrible enough without other people knowing about it.

But even if he wasn’t going to share his burden with them in words he felt comforted by their presence. These past couple weeks had been lonely without his friends. Having to resort to taking Severus Snape as his chosen confidant had been a bizarre turn of events and while was firm in his resolve not to tell his friends about what had happened with Malfoy, _‘I don’t even want to imagine Ron’s face!’_ he still felt like it would be easier to deal with his situation if he was surrounded by people who actually cared about him. At least with his friends around and classes resuming he’d have more to think about than just his stupid new scar, and stupid Malfoy and his own never ending streak bad luck.

His self-pitying was interrupted the moment he crossed the threshold into the Gryffindor common room as Hermione saw him from across the crowd of students and came bounding to give him a hug. He patted her back awkwardly until she relented and let him go, _‘girls’_ he inwardly rolled his eyes. Hermione wasn’t fazed by his unenthusiastic response.

“I was just wondering where you were!” She declared happily. “Come join me by the fire and we can compare our History of Magic essays!” Hermione said with more enthusiasm than the topic had ever merited. She pulled him over to the armchairs by the fire, where she had already set out all of her textbooks and completed holiday homework. Harry spotted Ron across the room snuggled up with Lavender on one of the oversized armchairs but watching them closely.

Harry wished Hermione would let go of his arm. He didn’t want Ron to think the wrong thing. He knew, even if they were both too stubborn to admit it, that Ron and Hermione had it bad for each other. He’d thought that his friends were finally on the verge of embracing their feelings for each other earlier in the year but Ron’s ill-conceived relationship with Lavender had managed to muck that up. He really didn’t want to risk making things even worse by letting Ron misunderstand his relationship with Hermione. She released her vice like grip on his forearm when they reached the chairs she had claimed with her school books.

“Shouldn’t I go upstairs to get my stuff?” He asked, hopeful for a brief chance to compose his thoughts and prepare himself for Hermione’s keen scrutiny.

“No worries, I figured you’d be back soon, and I anticipated that you’d agree so I went up to your room and grabbed everything I thought you’d need.” She pulled a scroll from her pile of school work and he recognized it as his transfiguration paper.

“There’s comments in the margins.” He groaned as his eyes scanned the now heavily red inked scroll.

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind. I took the liberty of looking it over for you while I waited.” Harry thought she didn’t sound particularly apologetic about having taken such a liberty.

“I’ll have to rewrite it out now.” He complained.

“Well it’s not due until Wednesday and since you’ve already got all your homework done, which I’m very proud of you for by the way, a quick rewrite shouldn’t be too much of a hardship.”

 _‘Nope definitely not sorry.’_ He thought, rolling his eyes in acceptance. Annoying though her inconvenient, albeit well intentioned, actions might be compared to everything else going on in his life at the moment rewriting his transfiguration paper really wasn’t much of a hardship. Harry accepted his critiqued paper and the two of them spent the next couple hours going over their History of Magic and Potions assignments. It wasn’t the funniest thing he’d done, but it did effectively manage to distract him from his troubles and for that at least he was grateful.

 0~0~0

Saturday, 1/04/97

The return of students into the Slytherin dormitory was an interesting experience for Draco. Since his transformation he had been almost entirely isolated from other people. He’d basically only interacted with Madame Pomfrey, Professor Snape, Potter, Dumbledore and yesterday that one strange encounter with the Ravenclaw girl.

Draco had successfully avoided the rest of the student body in the two days since his release. Since he was the only Slytherin in his year that had stayed behind for the holiday break he had felt no inclination to take his meals in the Great Hall and since Slytherins only interact with other houses during meals or shared classes he really hadn’t had any opportunity to cross paths with other students. Students from other houses don’t really hang out in the dungeons after all.

As such, Draco was unprepared for the response his Veela enhanced appearance garnered. He knew he looked good. It was hard not to notice, but he had expected his improved looks to inspire a passive approval in his peers, not a magnetic attraction. So when he was swarmed with admirers the moment they entered the Slytherin common room he was temporarily caught off guard. True, not everyone fawned over him, Veela appeal wasn’t universal, but it was a significant enough percentage to shock him. Students who in the past had been only passing acquaintances were suddenly fawning all over him, offering him their recently received Christmas gifts, and seemingly competing with each other for his notice.

Once the initial surprise wore off he quickly adapted to his elevated status. A few hours later and he was ready to brave the rest of the student body. The thought of his former foes tripping over themselves to please him had Draco feeling pretty damn good about the whole Veela transformation.

His optimistic outlook on his new life only deepened when he went down to the Great Hall for dinner. Heads turned as he entered the Great Hall and eyes followed him as he took his preferred seat at the Slytherin table. Most notably a certain set of emerald green eyes. He smirked in Potter’s direction, letting his rival know that his gaze hadn’t gone unnoticed. His acknowledgment only deepened Potter’s glare, but he still didn’t turn away. He continued to stare intently at Draco while the Slytherins at his table jockeyed for his attention and he was approached and complimented by a few of the braver Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students who had noticed his entrance into the Great Hall.

Potter’s attention was periodically diverted by his friends’ increasingly frustrated attempts to engage him in conversation. But his green eyes always came back to Draco eventually. Taking it all in, blatantly glaring at him. And Draco loved every second of it.

 0~0~0

Dinner in the Great Hall was a bit surreal for Harry now that the other students were back. In the two weeks of near isolation Harry had grown used to the silence of a nearly empty meal times and as such the cacophony of returned students and faculty seemed deafening. He also wasn’t used to being this close to Malfoy. Other than their brief encounters in the hospital wing and in Dumbledore’s office he and Harry hadn’t spent any time in the same room since their inadvertent bonding. It made him decidedly uncomfortable, especially when flashes of his recent dreams appeared unbidden in his mind.

Malfoy on the other hand didn’t look uncomfortable at all. His improved looks had not gone unnoticed and he was practically surrounded by admirers clamoring for his new beauty secrets. Or so Harry assumed. He couldn’t actually hear what it was people were saying to Malfoy. They hadn’t really discussed what their story was going to be. Harry didn’t know if Malfoy was planning to go public about his Veela inheritance or not.

 _‘Would he even be able to hide it?’_ Harry wondered, biting his lip as he contemplated whether or not Malfoy’s physical changes were within the realm of plausible for two week time span. He wondered how biased his three month long intense observation of Malfoy made him. Maybe the changes seemed subtle to other people.

“Harry?” Hermione interrupted his thoughts. “You’re staring at Malfoy again.” Harry tore his gaze away and looked at Hermione sheepishly.

 _‘That’s the third time she’s had to tell you that.’_ He mentally chided himself. _‘Be less obvious!’_

“Oh.” He said. She stared at him waiting for an explanation. “I was just noticing he looks a bit different is all.” Her eyes followed his back to Malfoy and she contemplated the blond.

“He does look different. His hair looks longer and his skin, it’s…” she hesitated trying to think of the right word. “Glowing?” She finished uncertainly. But Harry nodded in agreement.

The awkward exchange was mercifully interrupted as Ron plopped down in the seat next to Harry, promptly joined by his obviously just snogged girlfriend, Lavender. Harry resisted the urged to sigh at his friend’s lack of sensitivity. Ron would have to learn how to read Hermione’s emotions better if they were ever to have any hope of getting together.

Since it wasn’t his place to break his friend and his placeholder girlfriend up, Ron was on his own to figure that out. Instead Harry just accepted Ron’s entrance for what it was, a welcome reprieve from Hermione’s scrutiny and a much needed distraction from his own inexplicable inability to ignore Malfoy.

“So mate, how were the hols?” Ron asked, while liberally loading his plate with mashed potatoes and steak pie.

Harry didn’t want to lie so he replied with a vague, “It was par for the course.” Which for him at least it kind of was. Ron made a confused face at the muggle idiom and Hermione rolled her eyes.

“It means it was normal or how you would expect, really Ron have you even looked at the phrase book I bought you three years ago?” She exasperated.

Lavender grabbed Ron’s arm possessively and replied, “He has better things to do with his time than study muggle phrase books, Hermione.” Lavender glanced over at Ron meaningfully and Ron nearly choked on his oversized bite of steak pie.

Looking sheepish he replied, mouth still full, “What about you Hermione?”

Hermione shot Ron and mild glare then turned to Harry and responded as though he’d been the one to ask. “I had a lovely holiday. My family and I visited some relatives in Scotland and I received several promising books for Christmas. By the way thank you for the book on advanced arithamancy Harry. I found it really useful when I was writing my paper on the complexities of multilingual casting and its effects on magic theory. The class assigned textbook woefully under covered the topic. Harry?” Hermione tried and failed to capture Harry’s attention.

Harry’s eyes had wandered back to the Slytherin table and he was yet again ignoring the vapid exchanges of his friends.

“Mate?” Ron waved his hand in front of Harry’s face, pulling his wayward friend’s attention back to the table.

“Oh, sorry.” Harry mumbled for the fourth time. “Malfoy.” He said by way of explanation. If the fact that his friends accepted Malfoy’s name as sufficient reason for him ignoring them was a sign that his obsession with his Slytherin rival was not a new problem than Harry wasn’t about to dwell on it. He dug into his food and tried to force himself to ignore the delicate way Malfoy was feeding himself or the horde of panderers who seemed equally entranced by it.

His task was made easier when Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan took the seats across from him, effectively obstructing his view of the Slytherin table.

“What happened over break?” Dean asked. Harry could tell he was trying for non-chalance but the question came out accusatory.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, proud of himself for keeping a level voice. _‘There’s no way that Dean could know what happened between Malfoy and me.’_ He mentally reassured himself.

“The house points. They’ve gone to shit. We’re fifty down since before break. Hardly any Gryffindor’s even stayed this year. We’ve lost our lead.”

Harry’s back went rigid. Why hadn’t he thought of this? Of course his housemates were going to notice the loss of points. Going from first place to third was hardly a subtle change. He released a sigh.

“There was a fight.” He answered, taking another bite of food to stave off having to immediately elaborate.

“Go on.” Dean motioned with his hand for Harry to continue.

“I stumbled upon Malfoy crying in the loo. He attacked me, I defended myself. Snape found us and you can figure out the unfair punishment distribution from there.”

Dean’s shoulders sagged. Snape’s unfair persecution of Gryffindor’s was legendary.

“Harry! Why didn’t you mention any of this earlier?” Hermione demanded sternly.

“Par for the course, mate?” Ron cracked a half grin at his friend shaking his head.

“For me fighting Malfoy and being threatened expulsion by Snape IS par for the course. But I am sorry. If I had known things were going to go down the way they did I would have found a different loo.” Harry promised. _‘And that’s the truth.’_ Harry thought to himself.

Neither Dean or Seamus looked particularly impressed by that. “You really ought to think of your house more before you go antagonizing Malfoy. Honestly, you KNOW that you’re going to fight him if you spend more than a couple unbuffered seconds in each others' company so why do you even go near him. It’s a big castle. He can’t be that hard to avoid.”

“I promise I’ll make the points up. We’ve got our game against Hufflepuffs coming up.”

“Yeah, and we could have had those points on top of the ones you’ve lost us. Not to mention you can’t exactly credit yourself for winning quidditch points. Those are a team win.” Harry flushed, _‘Am I really that arrogant?’_ He wondered, embarrassed to realize that Dean was right and he had been counting team wins as his own personal contribution to the House.

“Yeah and Harry is the seeker who wins the game.” Ron retorted before Harry could say anything in response to Dean’s accusation. Harry was touched by Ron’s loyalty, but he really didn’t want to perpetuate the notion that he thought he was better than all of his other team members. As team captain that sort of attitude would hardly inspire loyalty from his teammates.

“I’m sorry. I really am Dean, but I swear to you Malfoy attacked me first. It really was self-defense. This whole thing is bollocks.” Harry apologized.

Dean’s glare softened. “Just try to stay out of trouble for the rest of term. Umbridge ruined our chances for the cup last year and it’d be nice if we could take it back this year. Just leave Malfoy alone.”

Harry nodded. _‘I wish it were that easy.’_


	5. Mischievous Malfoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco discovers his Veela powers to amusing results.

Author notes:

_Italicized words are character thoughts_

_**Italicized & boldfaced words are dream sequences or memories** _

**Boldfaced words are in text reading materials (like books or letters)**

000 Represents a shift in character perspective

0~0~0 Represents a shift in scene (often followed by the date the new scene takes place if it is on a different day than the prior scene)

Chapter 5: Mischievous Malfoy

Tuesday, 1/07/1997

Draco woke to the unexpected caressing of his thighs through the silken fabric of his pajamas. His body tensed, instantly on high alert and his body swiveled, tangling itself in his sheets and trapping his arms at his sides. His eyes met the heated gaze of Daphne Greengrass. She lunged for him before he could even inquire what on earth she thought she was doing.

He managed to turn his head causing her lips to collide against his chin in an unpleasantly wet sloppy kiss rather than their intended target. Undeterred by his resistance and obvious disinterest her hands roved feverishly over his torso, fondling him through the same sheets that were hindering his escape. He managed to free his arms at the same moment that he regained his speech.

"What on earth are you doing?"

Daphne batted her eyes coyly at him. "I would think that is fairly obvious." She paused her oral assault of his chin long enough to answer.

Draco grabbed her shoulders and pushed her away from him, forcibly extricating her lips from his now disgustingly slobbered face.

"What? I'm just kissing you. Though I'd be happy to do more." She winked at him as her hands reached out for him again, but he grabbed her wrists and kept her aloft.

"I can see that." He answered dryly. She pouted at his unpleasant tone.

Taking advantage of the placement of his hands she leant forward, pressing her breasts against his knuckles and gazing into his eyes longingly.

"Why so hostile? We've been flirting for days." She cooed, unabashedly pushing forward yet again. He held her firm.

Draco reflected back on the last few days. Yes, she had been one of his more ardent followers and perhaps he hadn't properly discouraged her. Though he couldn't help how amusingly angry Potter got when he saw people fawning over him, it had been impossible to resist the temptation to play into the affections of his legion of admirers when the result was so uniformly hilarious. This however was not funny. If there was one thing Draco despised it was the violation of his privacy or his person. This was resoundingly both.

Complicating that matter however was the fact that the Greengrass' were a prominent and powerful pure-blood family and he couldn't afford the scandal that would arise from his shaming their eldest daughter.

"Come on, Draco, don't you want me?" She whispered seductively. Draco sighed; it was too early in the morning for this kind of nuisance.

"Daphne, go back to bed. It is barely seven in the morning, I haven't even had my tea yet, and I'm simply not in the mood to deal with this right now." He released her wrists with a gentle forward shove that left no mistake as to his rejection. For the first time her confidence wavered.

"Do you hate me that much?" Her eyes glistened with the beginnings of tears.

 _'Please Merlin do not have my roommates wake up to the sight of a crying girl in my bed.'_ Draco mentally begged. He crawled out of his bed clasped her hand and guided the silently crying girl out of the six year dorm and into the common room.

Draco was normally loathed to leave his room improperly attired but desperate times called for desperate measures. He led her to the two best armchairs by the fireplace. Mercifully at this early hour the common room was still empty.

"Daphne," He began, "I am deeply honored by your interest and your" he mentally searched for an inoffensive way to say sexual proposition and settled for, "enthusiasm. I am well aware that a girl of your beauty and breeding could easily command the affection of just about anyone you want. As such I'm touched that you would bestow your favor on me. However, respecting you as deeply as I do I feel duty bound to decline your attentions. As I'm sure you know I'm heir to the Malfoy estate. With the inherent perks of that comes also familial obligations namely that I lack the discretion of choosing my own future bride. As it is impossible for me to promise you any future connection I wouldn't do you the disservice or the dishonor of allowing you to avail yourself on me. I apologize deeply if my general charisma has misled you into the belief that I was courting your favor, I assure you that was not my intent and I shall take pains going forward to be unambiguous in the platonic intent of my chivalry." He finished with a convincingly chastised looking half grin and a condescending pat on the top of her hand which he was still holding. _'There, she can be upset about that!'_ He thought, happy for once for the years of etiquette lessons his parents forced him to sit through.

The tears still streaked her cheeks but the sadness from his initial rejection had given way to a simmering rage as his speech carried on. A change that Draco failed to notice until too late.  Draco only realized his mistake when she jerked her hand from his. _'So much for hoping a polite rejection would resolve this without a scene.'_ He thought bitterly, already imagining the harshly worded letter he was sure to receive from his mother for allowing himself to be embroiled in the scandal that Daphne was surely about to cause.

"You don't have to be such a pompous arsehole, Malfoy." Her tone was cutting though thankfully not raised. "A simple, I'm not interested would have sufficed." She took in his surprised face with obvious derision. "What? Were you expecting me to curtsey and thank you for your chivalrous defense of my chastity? Well so sorry to disappoint. This isn't finishing school. This is the real world. I propositioned you for sex you declined. It's as simple as that. I wouldn't even have been that offended if you hadn't been such an insufferable prat about it. But it's obvious by your stunned expression that you were expecting me to be gratified by your pretty little speech. You've already rejected my body I think it rather presumptuous that you expect me to stroke your already inflated ego and sense of self righteousness by pretending to be gratified by your absurdly pretentious manners. I was raised in a pure-blood family too. It takes a lot more than pretty words to earn my respect." She stalked off back in the direction of the girls' dorm and Draco slumped back into the armchair with a sigh of relief that no one had seen their exchange.

 _'That really can't happen again.'_ He resolved.

0~0~0

Draco hadn't had enough time before class that morning to work out a solution to the little problem of his overaggressive horde of suitors. He knew that it was going to mean research and so far he hadn't so much as cracked open any of the several tomes on Veela that his godfather had given him to study. Up until that morning he had been rather enjoying his new found popularity, but there was a big difference between being showered with compliments and being molested in the morning. If the actions of his admirers were crossing that line than it was past time he rein in whatever one of his Veela powers it was that was making people act this way.

He managed to get through his Tuesday classes without being physically accosted again, and for that he was grateful. He wasn't naïve enough to assume that all of his fans would have the well-bred sense of propriety not to cause a scene.

He couldn't spend the whole day wallowing in worry. A Malfoy doesn't waste time brooding. Besides it was impossible to remain unnerved when he had the unceasingly amusing antics of Potter to entertain him. A double transfiguration class with Potter craning his neck to look at him every few minutes, one time actually being scolded by Professor McGonagall, could work wonders to improve one's mood.

 _'Such a shame Potter didn't take Ancient ruins.'_ Draco thought drolly to himself as Professor Babbling droned on. Only the swottiest of the golden trio had bothered with the subject much to his chagrin. Never the less just the memory of Potter's incessant neck craning was enough to keep a smile on his face through even the dullest parts of his Ancient Ruins class. By the time he was done with classes in the afternoon he was of half a mind to put up with the exaggerated attentions of his fans just so he wouldn't have to forego the hilarity of Potter's infatuation with him.

But no, that wouldn't do. He really couldn't afford the scandal of an improper dalliance the inferior of the stock and he didn't want to risk offending the few good pure-blood families who he wasn't closely related to. His marriage prospects were limited enough as it was. _'Curse the blood traitors for dwindling the pure-blood race to almost nothing. No, amusing though this power indisputably is, if it's going to result in people throwing themselves at me then I'm really going to have to put an end to it.'_ He accepted.

Between nosy Slytherins, homework, and dinner Draco wasn't able to begin his discrete research until well after dark. He waited until his room mates had all left the dorm to hang out in the common room and before settled in at his desk and began sifting through the books his godfather gave him. He stopped when he found one promisingly titled ' **An Unmated Veela's Guide to Courting** '.

Impatient to get to the relevant material he checked the index and flipped straight to chapter five.

**Chapter 5**

**The Tools of Temptation**

**Veela have many natural advantages in the luring and capturing of mates. Most obvious of course being their almost unearthly beauty, charm, and grace. Less known and more powerful though are their abilities to manipulate the release of their pheromones and to command allure over non-Veela.**

**Pheromones are the subtler of the two abilities. At times Veela pheromones can be released inadvertently; this is a particular common occurrence when used by young or untrained Veela. The release of pheromones is a natural phenomenon among all mammals. Pheromones are a means for mammals to release their scent into their surrounding area and announce their mateabilty to perspective partners. Pheromones exist as an evolutionary means for mammals to attract compatible mates for the successful strengthening and continuation of their species.**

**Among Veela, pheromones are particularly powerful because unlike the unchanging pheromones released by other species Veela have the ability to control their scent, its strength, and its focus. A Veela's ability to hone the scope of their scent allows them to either broadening its appeal to attract the maximum number of suitors or narrowing it to focus on a particularly desired candidate.**

**Additionally a Veela can change their scent to match and achieve the appeal to a particular target. This focused use of pheromones is far more potent than the general temptation spawned by and unspecified scent and should be used with caution. A prospective mate targeted by personalized pheromones can become dazed, obsessively focused, or sexual aggressive.**

**Bonded Veela must also take caution in the use of pheromones because irrelevant to whether or not pheromones are specialized a Veela's bonded partner will be vulnerable and receptive to the lure of their mate's scent. This is a natural result of the bond they share and is irrevocable. This affinity can be mutually enjoyable for bonded pairs, but is inadvisable for use in public settings for reasons of decorum and to avoid the interference of third parties which could result in unfortunate incidences of jealousy or possessiveness on the part of the Veela or Mate.**

**The use of allure as a tool of Veela is more broadly known and understood even outside of Veela communities. Allure is a low level form of compulsion with which Veela can command the attentions of and favors from prospective or established partners. Allure is only effective on those with whom a base level attraction already exists and unlike pheromones it can be resisted by those with strong mental defenses. The use of allure, though not legally prohibited by the Ministry of Magic, is considered a punishable offense if used to commit other crimes or to induce unwilling participants into actions that they condemn when released from its influence. In the latter instance a formal complaint must be filed by the aggrieved party. Such improper use of Allure is frowned on even within Veela communities. Given such risks allure should be used sparingly and only with just cause and consideration.**

"Interesting." Draco said aloud, his fingers tapped his desk as he contemplated his new found powers. Allure he had of course heard of, but nothing in his cursory coverage of Veela by his primary tutor had alluded to this other power. "Pheromones, hmmm." He murmured as his mind matched the descriptions to his own recent experiences. _'Well that certainly explains the rather extraordinary level of attention I've been receiving since my transformation. I mean really my looks haven't changed THAT much. I'm must be releasing pheromones indiscriminately all over the place. What to do?'_

He smiled as he reread the passage about the honing of his scent. _'I don't have to retract my scent completely.'_ His grin deepened as he imagined the horror on Potter's face if he shot him with targeted pheromones, " **a Veela's bonded partner will be vulnerable and receptive to the lure of their mate's scent"** he mused. _'It's too perfect. I can avoid all the horrors of molestation and scandal without giving up any of my fun. This is going to be too easy. I can torment Potter and there's nothing anyone can do about it.'_

He spent the rest of the evening flipping through the rest of his books until he found an explanation of how to hone his scent. Once he felt confident that he could direct and target his pheromones he collapsed into bed, tired but full of delightfully devious plans for revenge. Tomorrow was going to be fun.

0~0~0

Wednesday, 1/08/1997

Harry dropped his book bag on the floor of the dungeon and slumped into his seat beside Ron and Hermione. The two were fighting over something stupid again, probably Lavender related, and he just didn't have the patience to listen to it anymore. Frankly he didn't really have the patience for anything. He was already going on three days without sleep and while keep-awake potion, as its name suggests, will keep you awake, it does nothing for the prolonged physical and mental exhaustion that results from not sleeping.

He opened his textbook to the page indicated on the board and tried to get his mind in a studious place. He knew, without having to look up, the moment that Malfoy walked in the door. He always knew. It was a weird awareness and like every other symptom of this stupid bond he loathed it. _'Malfoy, as per usual, is looking stunning.'_ He thought, than catching himself, _'ugh, what am I thinking, stupid stupid bond!'_ He rubbed his temples feeling a headache coming on already.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked, concerned over his obvious discomfiture.

"Brilliant." He grumbled, she flinched at his tone and he felt immediately sorry. _'This isn't her fault.'_ He chastised himself. "Sorry, Hermione, I've got a bit of a headache, I didn't sleep well last night."

She nodded in understanding, but her eyes still watched him with concern. Slughorn was talking now so Harry tore his gaze away from his worried friend and up to the front of the class. He knew that the teacher was giving instructions, but try as he might he couldn't seem to focus on what he was saying. Studying potions just seemed so trivial compared to everything else on his mind. He could feel Draco's presence in the back of the room. _'Why did the bugger have to sit all the way in the back?'_ he mentally grumbled.

Earlier in the week he would have thought it a good thing to have Malfoy out of his sight. But he had quickly learned that the old, 'Out of sight out of mind' adage held absolutely no water with Veela and if he was going to be forced to look at Malfoy every few seconds he would much rather be able to do so subtly than to have to be so obvious as to continually turn around or crane his neck. He had seen enough of Malfoy's amused smirks to know that Malfoy was not only aware of his affliction, he was highly amused by it and that pissed Harry off even more than the lack of sleep or persistent headaches could.

The scrape of stools across the dungeon floor pulled Harry back to the present. His classmates were all gathering ingredients from the potions cupboard. He rubbed his face in his hands, _'I really need to pull myself together.'_ He thought as he pulled up the tail end of the ingredient line. He noticed with a flicker of irritation that Malfoy had remained seated. He saw why when a blushing Slytherin girl, whose name he couldn't remember, delivered his ingredients to him and then coyly sat beside him. Malfoy caught Harry's eye and smiled smugly.

Harry pointedly ignored him and grabbed his ingredients, forcing himself to not glance to the back of the room as he returned to his seat. Bolstered by his renewed resolve not to let Malfoy get to him Harry began brewing. Still disturbed by the sectumsempra curse Harry followed the class instructions and paid no mind to the scrawled notes in the margins of his textbook. Hermione seemed to notice this and looked on with approval.

During the twenty minute mid-class boil Harry let his mind wander again while Slughorn rambled on about the history of the potion, its evolution and modern day variants.

"Mr. Potter," Slughorn called out jubilantly, "Why don't you tell us about the variant use of fairy wings in Pepper-up to counteract the less enjoyable side effects. I was most impressed by your mid-term essay." Slughorn smiled at him.

Harry remembered the essay; it had been another piece of wisdom from the half-blood prince. He opened his mouth to answer, but was struck dumb by an overwhelming wave of warmth and desire. Suddenly the potions' classroom was the farthest thing from his mind. All he could see was the Draco from his dream, seductive images flashing through his mind, he could smell him and feel his warmth all around, enshrouding him, blocking out the sounds and sight of his increasingly concerned teacher and classmates.

He could practically feel Draco's lips caressing his body his imagination was so thorough. He felt himself hardening beneath his robe, but he was too far removed from the classroom to even register that he should be embarrassed. Being aroused seemed the naturalist thing in the world, surrounded by his mate's scent and the fluttering sound of his mate's heart and the throaty chuckle of his mate's voice-

The sound of Malfoy's laughter pulled Harry out of his haze. All eyes in the classroom were staring at him and he realized to his dual horror that he had drool running down his chin and a visible boner tenting his robes under the table. He hoped rather than believed that his classmates had only noticed the drooling. Uncaring of what conclusions people would draw he craned his neck and sent Malfoy a seething glare, which only made the insufferable blond smile wider. _'Bloody Veela Curse!'_ Harry swore in his head as Professor Slughorn tried to recapture the attention of the room.

Hermione mercifully distracted the classes attention away from him by answering Slughorn's question and Harry let her words wash over him as he brooded on what had just happened. Harry recognized the symptoms as a match to what the Veela bonded memoir had described as pheromones. _'Just my luck that Malfoy would have to have that ability on top of everything else.'_ He mentally grumbled as he resumed brewing.

At least the resumption of active potion brewing forced his classmates to stop staring at him. Well at least most of them. He could feel Malfoy's gaze burning a hole in his back. He wouldn't give the smug wanker the satisfaction of making him turn around. He gathered up his stuff and was the first out the door when class ended, leaving his curious friends and classmates in the dust.

Harry knew Malfoy well enough to know this wouldn't be a one-time thing. He knew he'd have to ride out the humiliation for however long it took for the novelty to wear off and Malfoy to get bored with his new powers, which Harry suspected would take a long time. With that gloomy prediction in mind Harry made his way up to the school library, taking lesser used corridors to avoid having to deal with other people.

His arousal had thankfully abated during the second half of class but he had been rightly mortified by how long it had taken. Being full mast in a crowded classroom would be the stuff of nightmares in any context. But having an erection when everyone's eyes are already on you, and when you know for a fact that your mortal enemy is aware of your predicament was a whole other level of hell.

If he couldn't prevent Malfoy from being a prat at least he could prevent that from ever happening again. In a world where both magic and men exist Harry felt certain that someone must have invented a spell to hide boners. The library didn't disappoint him. Three hours and countless glamor, disguise, medical, and finally transfiguration books later Harry found a spell that would work.

He took advantage of his dorm mates still being out of the room and he enchanted all of his pants with wizard space. It might not prevent him from getting a boner, (all the medical spells that had achieved that feat had included terrifying descriptions of the dangers of botching the spell) but at least any erection he did have would discretely disappear into the wizard space and his classmates would be none the wiser. Now if only if he could find a way to immunize himself against Malfoy's Veela magic.

0~0~0

Thursday, 1/09/1997

Emboldened by his success in potions, Draco made immediate plans for his next public humiliation of Potter. He could think of no better opportunity than their joint defense against the dark arts class the next day since he knew his godfather would share in the joy of tormenting Potter and as such that seemed to be the class he was least likely to get into trouble for it.

The perfect opportunity presented itself when Professor Snape volunteered Potter and himself to demonstrate dueling techniques for the class. Given the recent disastrous results of them dueling in the boys' loo Draco was mildly surprised that his godfather had chosen the two of them to pair up, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

They took their defensive stances and faced off in the center of the classroom. The desks had been placed in a circle around the room and their classmates were watching them with vivid interest. Potter wasted no time and shot a non-verbal _expelliarmus_ at him, Draco saw it coming and dodged it with ease. _'Thank you Veela reflexes.'_ Draco smiled to himself. Draco responded by reaching out with his allure. He hadn't yet tested the effects of that on Potter.

His attempt earned him an amused smirk from Potter who shook a finger at Draco chidingly.

"Trying to cheat already Malfoy?" he taunted. "If I can resist the Imperius curse I can resist that." Malfoy glared and shot a full body bind curse at him.

Draco grimaced as Potter managed to cast a shield charm just in time.

Draco cast hex after hex at the the defensive bubble to no effect. The shield held for as long as Potter remained focus on maintaining it. On this bright side it meant that Potter wasn't on the offense, on the down side it meant that he looked like he was losing. _'Malfoy's don't lose.'_ He justified to himself as he sent a wave of pheromones at Harry.

000

Harry's shield charm crumpled as he succumbed to the effects of the Veela magic. His shoulders slumped, his mouth gaped and his eyes appraised Malfoy with undisguised longing. Malfoy left him hovering in the magic's embrace for several embarrassing seconds, amidst the snickering of their classmates, before he put him out of his misery by striking him with a levicorpus right in the chest.

Harry made no defense. He seemed completely unaware that he was in a duel at all and only came out of his daze when his feet pulled up abruptly towards the ceiling. Draco, not wanting to give him a chance to retaliate, hit him with expelliarmus before he could fully regain his senses. Harry's wand flew through the air and into Draco's awaiting hand.

"Well done, Mr. Malfoy. Ten points to Slytherin. Everybody else pair up and practice holding shield spells. Hopefully you'll do better than Mr. Potter here." Snape waved dismissively in Harry's direction.

Malfoy approached the still magically suspended Harry triumphantly.

"Filthy cheater." Harry spat, struggling against his magical bonds.

"Now now Potter don't be a poor sport." Malfoy sneered. He strode over right beside Harry's ear and whispered, "It's hardly my fault if you can't control your little crush. I mean really Potter, in the middle of class? I was half afraid you were going to jump me. That levicorpus was practically in self-defense." He jeered.

If looks could kill Malfoy would be stone cold dead.

"You know Malfoy," Harry whispered back scornfully, "I think the fact that you are enjoying this, the fact that you WANT me to have those kinds of thoughts and feel those kinds of sensations says a whole lot more about you than it does about me. I'm being subjected to this magic against my will. You're choosing to use your powers voluntarily. If one of us needs to rein in their subversive desires I think we both know it's you."

Malfoy stalked off angrily, casting a non-verbal ' _finite'_ over his shoulder causing Harry crash painfully to the floor.

The rest of the class passed predictably with Professor Snape awarding points to successful Slytherins while purposefully ignoring Gryffindor victories. Harry couldn't even be bothered to bristle at the injustice of it. He was too single mindedly pissed at Malfoy and at this whole accursed situation. Adding insult to injury his involuntary arousal stoically refused to wane. The sensation had been more powerful today than it had been in their potions class.

Harry suspected this may have had something to do with Malfoy being in front of him both because it meant he received a frontal assault of pheromones and because it meant he could actually see the real living breathing Malfoy instead of just the figments of his imagination from yesterday. He couldn't say for sure which was worse. On the one hand yesterday's imagery was a hell of a lot more sexually graphic, but on the other hand. Yesterday he hadn't had to face Malfoy in that state, hadn't had to look at Malfoy with lustful admiration. No today was definitely worse. He never wanted to look at Malfoy like that.

 _'God,'_ He thought with another wave of mortification, _'everyone saw me looking at him like that. What are people going to say?'_ He could only image how insufferable things were going to get if this continued. Harry weighed his options. Though the idea of humbling himself before Malfoy was detestable he couldn't honestly say that begging Malfoy to stop was any more embarrassing that practically cumming in class at the sight of him. Frankly, between the two there was no contest. Maybe Malfoy could be reasoned with; surely he didn't want people to know they were bonded. And even the enjoyment he was clearly deriving from Harry's embarrassment was bound to be offset by the scandalous rumors he risked involving himself in. Harry resolved to talk to Malfoy after class.

000

Draco noticed that Potter was hanging back at the end of class. When he heard him tell his gryffindork friends to go on without him his suspicions went on high alert. Thankfully Draco wasn't the only one who noticed.

"Mr. Malfoy I'd like you to stay and speak to me after class." Professor Snape ordered. The last of their classmates filtered out of the classroom. Harry hovered stubbornly.

"Mr. Potter I don't believe I asked you to linger. You should head off to class now, before I decide to dock any more points from Gryffindor." Potter glared at Snape for the unfairness as he stalked off without saying anything.

 _'Maybe he's finally learning to choose his battles.'_ Draco mused.

Once the door was closed Draco was caught in his godfather's patent disapproving glare.

"That was quite a show you put on today, Draco." He began. Draco was inclined to smile but his godfathers tone didn't sound pleased. "I'll thank you to contain your courtship of Mr. Potter to outside of my classroom. It's highly disruptive and frankly I've no interest in watching my godson flirt with the son of my avowed enemy."

"I wasn't flirting!" Draco sputtered indignantly. "I was just embarrassing him. I thought you'd be pleased!"

"If your intention was to please me than you should have embarrassed him by displaying superior dueling abilities and by defeating him fairly. As it is I found that display of poor sportsmanship to be beneath you and the honorable house of Slytherin, and I'm disappointed that you resorted to such underhanded methods to win."

Draco was crushed. His godfather had never been disappointed in him. And his courtship accusation was absurd.

"I thought death eaters believed the ends always justified the means." Draco shot back petulantly.

"Perhaps," Snape replied, "but I rather question your motivations when the ends you seem to be trying to achieve are a sexually aroused Harry Potter. I repeat what I said before. Not in my class room, not in my sight." Draco opened his mouth to protest again, but Snape cut him off. "You're dismissed." Snape finished in a tone that brooked no argument.

000

Harry stalked out of the defense against the dark arts classroom. He contemplated his options. He didn't have any other classes today, but he really didn't want to have to deal with his house mates just yet. Ron and Hermione in particular would want to know what happened to him and he REALLY didn't want to get into it. It didn't help that he was still rock hard. Clearly his cock wasn't getting the memo that he was angry not horny. He sighed in resignation and changed his course to the nearest loo.

 _'Might as well just get it over with.'_ He thought with woeful resignation. He checked under the stalls to make sure the room was unoccupied and then he shot locking and silencing charms at the door.

Without preamble he unbuttoned his trousers and removed his traitorous cock from his enchanted pants. It was still rigid and seeping nearly an hour later. "Fucking Malfoy." He cursed, and then blushed at himself at the images that phrase evoked. His cocked twitched appreciatively. He tried forcibly to push all thought of Malfoy from his mind. Now was not the time for that. Not if he wanted to get this done with. He thought of Ginny, tried to imagine her lips around him, sucking him in while her eyes gazed up at him lovingly.

His body jolted and he was almost doubled over in a near painful wave of nausea.

"No-fucking-way." He panted as he tried to catch his breath. "I can't even think about other people? Are you fucking kidding me?" He yelled to the empty room. His stomach was settled once more. His discomfort had been as fleeting as his thoughts of Ginny. His prick on the other hand had not settled down at all. It was still painfully hard and begging for his attention.

He tried to just stroke it mindlessly. Going through the motions, but relief wouldn't come. He closed his eyes. If he had to do this he didn't want to have to see himself in the mirror. Maybe if he closed his eyes he could pretend he was someone else. Harry Potter wasn't wanking in a dungeon bathroom to lewd thoughts of Draco Malfoy. No, he was someone else. Someone who found the prospect of shagging Malfoy less inherently disturbing.

He thought about the dream he had the second night he got out of the hospital wing. The darkened room, the phantom hands groping him through silken sheets. The press of Malfoy's bare chest against his back. Malfoy's hands trailing over the sheets, caressing his thighs and then slipping beneath the covers to molest the nude body beneath. The feeling of Malfoy fisting his cock while frotting against his back side.

Malfoy kissing, sucking, and biting his shoulder. His hand tightening around Harry's shaft as he reached his own crescendo. The tremor of his body as he came against Harry's backside. The sound of his husky voice as he cried out. The feel of his heart beating against Harry's back and his hot ragged breath against Harry's neck as he stroked Harry to completion.

"Yes, yes." Harry moaned as his remembered wet dream propelled him to climax yet again. His load splattered across the bathroom tiles and Harry collapsed back against the wall panting. That was the first time he'd cum since he starting taking keep-awake and it was the first time he'd touched himself since the sectumsempra incident. Harry cleaned the mess with a wave of his wand. He didn't want to think about how good that had felt or how much thinking about Malfoy had turned him on. He didn't want to deal with this right now. He tucked himself back into his trousers and left without looking back.


	6. An Alluring Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when Draco pushes Harry too far?

Author notes:

_Italicized words are character thoughts_

**_Italicized & boldfaced words are dream sequences or memories_ **

**Boldfaced words are in text reading materials (like books or letters)**

000 Represents a shift in character perspective

0~0~0 Represents a shift in scene (often followed by the date the new scene takes place if it is on a different day than the prior scene)

Chapter 6: An Alluring Kiss

Friday, 1/10/1997

Harry yawned widely as he dragged himself into charms. It had been six days since he had last slept and it was really beginning to wear on his attention span and his attitude. Lack of sleep was also making him crabby and snappish at even his closest friends and he had no patience at all for anyone else.

He was acutely aware that his highly unconventional use of keep awake potion was dangerously bordering the line of abuse. What had started as two doses of keep-awake in the beginning had quickly escalated up to four doses a day. And he was already feeling like it might be time to up the ante again. His aggressive usage was really wreaking havoc on the supply of the potion that he had purchased from the Ravenclaw dealer. He had already burned through six of the ten bottles in the case and he suspect he'd need to buy another case before the start of next week.

He noticed to his chagrin that Malfoy was already waiting in class, so no luck enjoying a few more Malfoy free minutes today.

 _'_ _Oh to go back to the days when classes were house segregated and I only had to see Malfoy in potions, defense against the dark arts, and care of magical creatures._ ' Harry thought woefully.

But no, now that O.W.L.s were over and students got to pick just the classes they needed for future careers there weren't enough in each class to justify the division. So now he had to see Malfoy in every bloody class, because of course their future career ambitious would require almost all of the same prerequisite courses. The only exceptions being his choice of herbology, which he needed for Auror requirements and Draco's choices of ancient ruins and arithamancy which Malfoy presumably needed for whatever it was wealthy heirs did, or he thought darkly, _'whatever death eaters did.'_

Today's venue for what Harry was sure would be another round of humiliation at Malfoy's hands would be charms class. Draco was sitting in the front of the room, which of course meant that Harry was going to spend the whole class period staring at him and getting scolded by Professor Flitwick for inattentiveness.

 _'_ _Just another day in the life of the chosen one.'_ Harry thought bitterly. He had given up pretending not to be in a bad mood. What was the point? Hermione and Ron would be able to tell he was grumpy anyway and it was way too much effort to maintain the facade of good humor for anyone else. He was better off being a dick upfront and with any luck most people would leave him the fuck alone.

Malfoy looked up as soon as he walked in the room and their eyes met for a horrifying second before Harry managed to avert his gaze. He couldn't bear to face Malfoy right now. Not after what happened in the bathroom yesterday. Even though he knew it wasn't his fault and that there hadn't been a viable alternative to what he had done, he still felt irrationally guilty about it.

He'd never blamed himself for the dreams, after all they happened while he was unconscious and was powerless to stop them, but he couldn't shake the notion that what he'd done in the bathroom was at least on some level a choice. It made him feel dirty. Not that he had a problem with masturbation in general. He'd certainly never felt guilty about wanking to thoughts about Ginny or Cho. Yet somehow tossing off to Draco felt different. He felt like he had violated some basic core rule inherent in their relationship by thinking of him that manner and finding it pleasurable seemed to breach some unspoken understanding or some unwritten rule about what sort of dynamic they had. Never mind that Malfoy didn't seem as concerned about maintaining that boundary. Harry was too confused about his own reactions to this bloody bond to ponder Malfoy's bizarre behavior.

No, Harry would put it out of his mind. Harry wouldn't let it happen again. He wouldn't allow the bond to compel him in that fashion again, preying on his exhaustion and his humiliation and his desire to be free of the effects of Malfoy's pheromones. Harry hated himself for not having fought harder against the curse. Not fighting was the same as losing. Harry felt that by giving in to that impulse of the moment he had momentarily surrendered to the curse in general. Allowing it domain over his life and his choices.

Harry was uncomfortable with how much he had given in to the curse already. He had acknowledged that as long as he was bound to Malfoy he wouldn't be able to pursue romantic relationships with anyone else. Edward's memoir had taught him that much. Yesterday he had realized and begrudgingly accepted that he couldn't wank anymore. His only real ongoing rebellion was his refusal to sleep. His refusal to dream about Malfoy, because that was too intimate. It was much easier to accept a forced lack of intimacy than it was to accept forced intimacy. The former was merely a void while the latter was a violation. Harry already felt violated enough.

000

Draco watched Potter enter the classroom and his trademark smirk flitted across his face, deepening as Potter forcibly avoided eye contact and blushed visibly. _'He's still embarrassed from yesterday.'_ Draco mused, his own mortification at his godfather's accusations, conveniently tucked away if not forgotten.

Draco watched as Potter unpacked his bags, set out his writing materials and made forced small talk with his friends, all the while avoiding Draco's side of the room like the plague. Draco gave little mind to the notice his own intent observation of Potter was attracting. With his body fully craned in his seat towards Potter he wasn't exactly being subtle in his observance of the boy who lived. Yet, the scarhead paid no him no heed.

As class began Draco irritation only deepened. Potter was supposed to be staring at him. That's the whole reason he'd sat in the front. As a rule Slytherins tended to prefer sitting in the back of classrooms where they were less vulnerable to eavesdroppers or teacher scrutiny. Yet Draco had set aside his own preference so that he could embarrass Potter.

 _'_ _How dare he ignore me?'_ Draco mentally seethed, flabbergasted that his ploy had so backfired. Self-aware enough to realize that his own blatant staring was opening himself up to the same speculation that he had been trying to impose on Potter, Draco swiveled in his chair and faced the teacher. He'd bide his time and find an appropriately humiliating moment to strike wonder boy with his pheromones, _'Then we'll see who's staring in class.'_ Draco plotted, smiling to himself wickedly.

Draco got his chance sooner than he had expected when Professor Flitwick called Potter to the front of the class to demonstrate a successful patronus charm. Draco watched as his prey made his way up to the front, still pointedly avoiding Draco's gaze.

Draco rolled his eyes as Potter gave his predictably self-deprecating speech about how he only knew the charm because Professor Lupin had helped him in third year, yadda yadda yawn. Draco waited for just the right moment to strike. Harry was explaining the need for a happy memory, demonstrating the hand motion, uttering the spell. And BAM! Draco shot him with a concentrated jet of pheromones mid-incantation.

Harry's body slumped, his eyes glazed over distractedly, and the silvery mist emitting from his wand shifted its form from the almost corporal stag that he was known for to a much smaller silvery white ferret that proceeded to scamper around the room, finishing its circuit directly in front of Draco, amidst the uproarious laughter of their classmates. Draco's fists clenched angrily as he fervently prayed that his embarrassed blush would be mistaken for a flush of anger.

 _'_ _I hate ferrets!'_ Draco screamed in his head. But he successfully schooled his features into a studied indifference, ignoring the pest even as it tried to cuddle up against him.

"FINITE INCANTIUM." Professor Flitwick cast loudly above the din of the room, dissolving the patronus in a poof of smoke. "Settle down students." He admonished, glaring at those who continued to chatter. "Very good Mr. Potter, you may be seated." He ordered, trying to regain decorum of the classroom. Draco released Potter from his thrall; feeling rather put out that he had somehow managed to get the butt end of his own prank. He watched as Potter stumbled back to his seat in an apparent daze, earning himself another round of amused chatter. Draco resolved to plan his pranks more carefully in the future.

000

"Harry, are you okay." Hermione whispered worriedly as soon as Professor Flitwick turned his back.

Harry shook his head as though to clear it from a fog and replied,

"Yeah, I'm just feeling a bit under the weather today. I think breakfast disagreed with me."

Hermione shot him a dubious look. "Your patronus changed form." It wasn't a question.

Harry just shrugged. He wasn't about to explain his fucked up relationship with Malfoy to her or the probable interaction between Malfoy prank pheromones and his casting, so what could he really say. "That happens sometimes. I was thinking about the time moody turned Malfoy into a ferret, it's is one of my happiest memories. Maybe that had an unintended interaction with the spell?" He suggested, knowing that was a woefully inadequate explanation. Hermione just hummed thoughtfully and studied his expression.

"Maybe." She replied noncommittally.

Harry waited for his friend's focus to return to the lesson and then he chanced a glance at his tormentor. Malfoy was, mercifully, no longer staring at him. Harry didn't want to think about how uncomfortable the blond's earlier attention had made him. Harry noted the slight flush in Malfoy's cheeks with satisfaction.

 _'_ _At least I managed to embarrass him too. Serves him right, the bloody prat!'_ Harry mused, averting his eyes quickly so that Hermione wouldn't see him looking at the Slytherin. _'I'm going to have to be really careful around her now.'_ He thought. _'Stupid Malfoy!'_

Harry was pleasantly surprised when the rest of the lesson went off without any further incidences of Veela magic. _'Maybe he's finally gotten his fill,'_ Harry thought optimistically. _'About bloody time.'_ Harry couldn't for the life of him understand why Malfoy had so taken to using the Veela powers in the first place. Sure, tormenting school rivals was fun, but Harry was hard pressed to think of anything less appealing than the thought of an aroused Draco Malfoy drooling over him. _'You're not being honest with yourself, your dreams would suggest otherwise…'_ an annoying voice in his head taunted him. Harry felt like he was going crazy.

Harry was so distracted by his inner monologue that he didn't notice the end of class until the scrapping of stools against the stone floor forced him out of his thoughts. Harry stood quickly to pack his bag when he saw that Ron and Hermione were already packed and waiting for him by the end of the table. He shoved his ink and quill forcefully into his back, bending the plumage, and scurried to join his friends when he was hit with another wave of pheromones, tripping him mid step, and causing him and all of his belongings to crash onto the floor.

Predictably his ink well splattered everywhere, soaking his bag, his loose scrolls, his school uniform and the classroom floor. Hermione rushed forward to help him clean up the mess but he halted her with his hand.

"It's okay." He said, still lying on the floor. "No need for us both to be a mess. You and Ron go on without me. I'll catch up with you at lunch." Hermione hesitated but he waved her away with his hand. "Really, I'm fine; I'll clean this up and join you in a few.

A few students were still packing up as Ron and Hermione left and Harry didn't give it any thought. He was passed caring if his classmates took humor from the ongoing spectacle that was his life.

After he finished repacking his bag and scourgifying away all of the spilt ink he rose to his feet and realized, to his surprise that he and Malfoy were alone in the classroom together. He glared bitterly.

"I didn't think you'd stick around. Striking from the shadows and running away seemed more your style."

Malfoy flinched slightly at his words.

"I was under the impression yesterday that you wanted to speak with me after class, but Professor Snape interrupted. Was I mistaken?" He replied, inspecting his nails, as though he were already bored with the conversation.

Harry fumed. "You thought I wanted to talk to you so you thought the best way to orchestrate the conversation would be to attack me in class and cause me to spill ink everywhere?"

Malfoy's amused eyes flickered up from his nails and met Harry's burning gaze.

"Attack is a bit of an exaggeration, Potter. Let's not be melodramatic. I can hardly be blamed if you're too clumsy to keep a proper hold on your bag. Most people can manage to walk across a room without spectacularly tripping up on thin air. Who carries ink in breakable bottles anyway? That's practically what the unbreakable charm was invented for." Malfoy tutted and shook his head condescendingly.

Harry's fists clenched and his nails dug painfully into his palms.

Malfoy's eyes flashed down to Harry's clamped hands and then back up to his anger flushed face and he laughed.

"Oh, is Potty angry? Do you want to strike me Potter? You're trying to hold back so hard that you're making you're hands bleed. Why don't you just come at me? Or is Dumbledore's golden boy afraid of getting in trouble? Or is it something more sordid? Are you afraid to touch me Potter? Afraid that if you start you won't be able to stop?" Malfoy taunted.

Whether it was the days without sleep or the accumulation of unsatisfied frustrations something inside Harry snapped and he lunged at Malfoy.

Malfoy's face blanched instantly. Clearly he hadn't expected his taunts to actually work. He reflexively shot his hands in front of his body defensively and Harry was hit with an all-encompassing torrent of Veela magic before his body crashed Malfoy's into the nearest wall.

Whatever attack plan Harry had in mind when he had launched himself at Malfoy was washed away in the tidal wave of his mate's smell, warmth, and magic as they overwhelmed all of Harry's senses.

Harry paid no heed to the pale hands that futilely pushed against his chest when his lips found their mark. His mouth relished the taste and texture of his mate's lips as he devoured them frenziedly, while basking in the warmth and the heady concentration of his Veela's uniquely intoxicating scent.

000

Potter's lips crashed into his a moment after his back crashed against the blackboard, the shock of which forced his mouth open in a rough gasp of ejected air. An opening the entranced Potter took full advantage of, shoving his tongue inside before Draco even knew what was happening.

Draco was so stunned by the sudden assault of his mouth that it was several seconds before he could mount a defense. Pushing his trapped hands against Potter's insistently pressing chest proved entirely ineffectual. Potter seemed undeterred, unaware even, of Draco's efforts to cast him off and Draco realized in delayed epiphany that he was still projecting his pheromones. He cut the flow off directly and then took advantage of Potter's resulting confusion to push the Gryffindor forcefully off of him.

Draco's lips were swollen from the force of the kiss and some combination of breathlessness and mortification kept him mute. Potter regained his voice first.

"What the fuck is your problem Malfoy!" He screamed at Draco, wiping his mouth dramatically, looking for all the word like he wanted to spit out their kiss. Draco blanched under the fury of the Gryffindor's righteously indignant gaze.

"I didn't-" Malfoy stammered, not knowing what he could even say. "It wasn't supposed to be that strong." He finished lamely.

"Why the in the bloody hell are you using your pheromones on me at all?" Potter shot back. "Are you getting some sick twisted pleasure out of this? Do you enjoy making me kiss you, compelling me to have inappropriate thoughts about you, forcing me feel things? I mean really what are you getting out of this exactly? Surely you don't want me to -" Potter gestured erratically with his hand as he struggled for the right words, "-desire you? Or are you really that vain?"

Draco guffawed indignantly, but Potter pressed on before he could protest.

"I mean isn't it bad enough that I can never be with ANYONE else? I will never be able to find love. I can never be happy, EVER! I get that this is all honky fucking dory for you. What with your silky hair and your glowing skin and your adoring fucking masses, but this is shit for me Malfoy. It's fucking hell. It's horrible in ways you will never know and you can never understand. So with all of that, with all that I am already suffering, why? Why do you have to make this worse for me? I haven't even slept in-" Potter broke off mid-sentence. He looked intently at Malfoy and his face hardened, an almost visible wall going up as though his appraising eyes tested Draco and found him unworthy of hearing whatever it was he had been about to say.

"Why am I even bothering?" He continued finally. "As if you'd fucking care. Anything I tell you you'll just use against me. It'll just be another new and fun way for you to torment me. You know, I thought better of you once. I knew you were a wanker, but really I thought," He shook his head choosing his words, "When this curse happened it sucked. We knew it would suck, obviously. I mean how could it not? This is life ruining. But, I don't know, I thought at the very least this could be a truce for us or something. I thought that the shared burden of this accursed bond would-" He hesitated again. "I thought you had a shred of decency, or compassion or human feeling or some shite. But clearly I gave you too much credit. I should have known you'd just use this curse to make my life miserable. It's what you've done every single other year we've been in school. First year it was bullying me for my muggle family and getting me in trouble for helping Hagrid with his dragon. Second year it was convincing the school I was some muggle-born killing psychopath waiting to happen just because I'm a parselmouth. Third year it was mocking my perfectly rational fear of dementors and trying to make me fall off my broom in the middle of a quidditch game, which was seriously uncool by the way. I could have friggin' died. Fourth year it was getting the whole school to turn against me because I was chosen as a fourth tri-wizard champion AGAINST MY FUCKING WILL. Fifth year was leading the inquisitorial squad and exposing my defense club to Umbitch and getting me banned from quidditch. Really I shouldn't have been surprised that something like this would happen. This year had been too calm, too uneventful so far. But you've certainly been doing your best to make up for lost time. You've really out done yourself this year because this," He gestured between the two of them. "This won't just ruin one school year for me, this will ruin my life. So bravo Malfoy, you've won. You've finally fucking beat me. I hope your victory is everything you dreamt it would be."

"Potter." Draco's voice had a pleading almost apologetic tone to it. He felt like he needed to explain, to defend himself, to say SOMETHING. But what could he say? What possible defense could he make? Everything Potter had said was true. He had done all of those things and he had never felt sorry. But hearing them listed out all at once like that… Draco hesitated too long.

"Piss off, Malfoy." Harry spat and then turned foot and marched out of the room, leaving Draco speechless.


	7. Worried Witches and Wizards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is concerned about Harry, including Draco, not that he'd ever admit it.

Author notes:

_Italicized words are character thoughts_

**_Italicized & boldfaced words are dream sequences or memories_ **

**Boldfaced words are in text reading materials (like books or letters)**

000 Represents a shift in character perspective

0~0~0 Represents a shift in scene (often followed by the date the new scene takes place if it is on a different day than the prior scene)

Chapter 7:  Worried Witches and Wizards

Saturday, 1/11/1997

Draco eyes couldn’t help but seek out Harry in the Great Hall at breakfast the morning after their disastrous pheromone forced kiss. He couldn’t stop thinking about the things Potter had said the day before, in particular Potter's half uttered statement about not sleeping. When Potter had failed to turn up at the Great Hall for dinner the night before Draco had known it was because of him and he’d felt an extra pang of guilt at the thought that Potter had gone without food as well as without sleep. This unusual sentiment only deepened now as he was actually looking at his obviously beaten down rival.

Draco was shocked he hadn’t noticed how exhausted Potter looked before. _‘How were Potter’s Gryffidork friends not seeing this? He had dark black bags under his eyes for Merlin’s sake!’_ Draco observed his nemesis for the whole of breakfast, pointedly ignoring the fawning attentions of his neighbors, which had only somewhat lessened since he had reined in his pheromones.

Despite his single minded focus, Potter never looked his way. Yesterday’s incident seemed to have desensitized him to the non-targeted magnetic pull of Draco’s pheromones. Well either that or he was exerting effort to ignore the draw. But seeing how exhausted he looked Draco rather doubted he had the necessary energy to fight. Potter looked dead to the world and while his friends seemed to be talking to him Draco never noticed him give more than a one word response or a vague acknowledgment that someone had spoken to him.

Prior to yesterday Draco might have felt concerned by how much attention he was paying Potter. He might have worried about people taking notice and coming to erroneous conclusions. He might have even chastised himself for the impropriety of it, but today Draco couldn’t give a fuck. He wanted to know. He NEEDED to know what was wrong with Potter. What were all the mysterious ‘life ruining’ symptoms that he had alluded to? What nameless horrors was he suffering? _‘It’s just morbid curiosity.’_ He mentally assured himself. _‘I don’t actually care.’_

Of course, Draco knew better than to just straight out ask Potter. Besides being decidedly un-Slytherin that approach would just get him hexed, or even worse, kissed. He couldn’t risk instinctively deflecting an attack with pheromones again. He DID NOT want a repeat of that confusing incident. No, he was very much in the ‘not using pheromones against Potter’ camp now.

Using his Veela powers on Potter had ceased being funny the moment it had resulted in Draco being forcefully snogged within an inch of his senses by the golden boy of Gryffindor. He didn’t even want to imagine what his godfather would say if he knew. Some horrifying variant of ‘I told you so.’ or ‘as long as it’s not in my sight.’ Draco shivered at the thought. Severus was a smart man but he was seriously misreading the present situation.

Never the less, Draco found himself wandering down to the Head of Sytherin's office. Even if he was making some erroneous assumptions that didn’t mean he might not have some answers to Draco’s questions about the bond. After all, he had been researching Veela for nearly two weeks now and he was anything if not thorough. Draco suspected his godfather knew what Potter’s mysterious symptoms were.

Draco knocked on the door and let himself in without waiting for his Head of House to open it for him.

“It’s customary to wait until you are invited into someone’s chambers before entering.” Severus rebuked.

Draco sat himself in the comfier of the two arm chairs by the fireplace and waited for his godfather to abandon his desk and join him.

“You are a Malfoy through and through.” He remarked with an affectionate, if disapproving, shake of his head.

Draco smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I presume you’re here for a reason.” Severus probed his tone serious again.

“You wound me. Can’t a godson make a social call to his godfather?”

Severus quirked his brow at Draco. “Out with it Draco; I haven’t the time for childish games today. As you saw when you came in I am in the middle of something.”

“You’re always in the middle of something.” Draco retorted.

“True, I’m not an idle man, but my point stands. I haven’t the patience for a tete a tete with you today. So let dispense with the pleasantries. What brings you to my office today?”

Draco contemplated his godfather for a moment and accepted that he would do best to get to the point.

“In short I’m here to talk about Potter. I think he is unwell. I don’t believe he’s being honest with Madame Pomfrey about his symptoms. Frankly I don’t think he is being honest with anyone about his symptoms. He looks like shite.”

“Language Draco,” Snape tented his fingers and shot him an appraising look. “What makes you so certain that Mr. Potter is unwell as a result of the bond and not some other unrelated cause?” Severus asked.

“We had a bit of a spat and he blurted out some things.” Draco answered evasively.

“Go on.” Severus encouraged.

“He mentioned something about not sleeping before he caught himself.”

Draco thought he saw a flash of understanding in his godfather’s eyes.

“Does the bond do that? Does it make the intended mates unable to sleep?”

“You’re fishing Draco. If you’re curious about the symptoms Harry is experiencing than ask him.”

“But you know. I can tell you do. Why won’t you just tell me?”

“If, as you claim, you are truly only interested in making the staff aware that Potter is experiencing adverse effects to the bond than you can rest assured that you are not the only person in the school with sufficient observational abilities to notice that.”

“If the staff knows he’s unwell than why is nothing being done?” Draco asked indignantly. His godfather’s lips twitched at his uncharacteristic display of feeling and Draco forced back an embarrassed blush.

“There is no solution to his ills save the one that neither of you wishes to consider or discuss. Any symptoms that you or Mr. Potter experience are unfortunately outside the realm of my ability to assist. I told Mr. Potter the same when he came to me.”

“Potter confided in you?” Draco was incredulous.

“I’m going to choose not to be offended by your skepticism.” Severus replied coolly. “There may be no love lost between myself and Mr. Potter but, never the less, I am a professional Draco. Anything Potter may or may not have shared with me in a professional capacity will be honored with the confidentiality that such a disclosure merits.”

“I didn’t mean that as a lack of confidence in your trustworthiness, but I’m just surprised, given the nature of your history with him, that he would come to you.”

“One could argue that it is equally surprising, given the nature of your relationship with him, that you should come to me concerned about his well-being.”

“I’m not here because I care. I’m here because I want to know what’s going on. After all, I’m stuck in this bond too.” Draco sounded whiny even to his own years and he forced himself not to cross his arms because he knew it would only reinforce the image of his petulance. “It’s makes perfect sense that I would be curious about what is happening to Harry.”

“Harry is it? I hadn’t realized the two of you were on a first name basis.” Severus smirked.

“Potter.” Draco corrected, flushing. “I deserve to know what is happening to POTTER.” He added extra emphasis to the surname the second time.

“Well, I stand by what I said before. I won’t betray his secrets so if you want to know what is troubling him you’ll just have to convince him to tell you. I wish you the best of luck with that.”

Draco frowned. He wasn’t used to being denied requests by his godfather.

“Was that all you wished to talk to me about or do have you noticed any side-effects on your end that you’d like to discuss with me? I would of course similarly keep your confidences.” Severus offered.

Draco bristled inexplicably at his godfather’s words. “There are no symptoms on my end.” He replied stiffly.

Severus hummed meaningfully.

“What’s MMMM supposed to mean?” Draco retorted peevishly.

“Nothing.” Severus didn’t bother hiding the small quirk of his lips this time. “If you feel your recent behaviors and interest towards Mr. Potter are consistent with how they were before the bond who am I to disagree?”

Draco didn’t like the implied accusation, but felt it better to leave than to prolong what was quickly becoming an uncomfortable conversation.

“Thank you for your time.” Draco bowed tersely and showed himself out of the office.

0~0~0

Draco was not one to be easily put off something when he wanted it, and right now he want to know what the bloody hell was wrong with Potter. If his godfather wasn’t going to tell him well than he would just have to find out some other way.

The idea struck him later that night as he was replaying his conversation with his godfather over and over in his head. He couldn’t say what angered him more, Severus less than subtle implication that he cared about Potter or his stoic refusal to cave into Draco’s will. He remembered his godfather harping on about respecting confidences and keeping secrets,

_‘An un-Slytherin notion if I’ve ever heard one. Other people’s secrets were only worth keeping for three reasons. Firstly, if they had dirt on you, secondly if the secret had future blackmail potential, and thirdly if the secret belonged to someone too dangerous to risk offending.’_

Draco seriously doubted any of those three conditions applied to Potter and he was rather offended that his godfather placed a higher priority on professional courtesy than on the needs and wants of his only godson.

The Gryffindorish notion did however help to jog his memory to a similar conversation he’d had the week before with that strange little blonde girl, _‘What was her name again? Loony something, dammit I should have paid better attention. In any case she’s Potter’s friend and she might know. Weirdo that she is I’d have a much better chance getting it out of her than out of Granger or the Weasel.’_ Draco shivered involuntarily at the thought. No amount of curiosity would have him crawling to the know it all mud-blood for answers.

Finding a way to discretely talk to the strange Ravenclaw proved to be an interesting challenge. Never before had Draco lamented the woefully bad relationship Slytherin had with other houses. He’d always enjoyed the elitist sense of separation. It did however pose a problem when it came to trying to find the girl. He couldn’t exactly go up to the Ravenclaw dorms and ask for her to be called out to talk to him, though thanks to his prefect privileges he did know where all four of the dorms were hidden.

Without knowing her name sending an owl would also be problematic. Even if the owl could find her based on the description of Loony, receiving a letter addressed as such would hardly endear her to him. No, he would have to find her the good old fashioned way, by skulking around. _‘Ugh, Potter secret had better be worth this much effort.’_ He thought ungenerously.

0~0~0

Sunday, 1/12/1997

Operation Friendship, so named because he planned to exploit her ridiculous notion that they were friends to get her to reveal Potter’s secrets, commenced first thing the next morning. He hoped that he might catch her at breakfast and that his whole pursuit could be as easy as following her out of the Great Hall and pulling her aside as soon as they had a corridor to themselves. The plan seemed promising enough. Of course things could never be that simple. He sat at the Slytherin table for the full three hours that brunch was served on Sundays, earning himself quite a few odd looks, and the Ravenclaw girl never showed up. He kicked at the walls of the dungeon outside his dorm, trying to compose himself before entering his common room and facing his peers and the no doubt onslaught of questions he was going to face about his strange morning behavior.

“What did the wall do this time?” An amused voice asked him. He froze in place. He had thought he was alone in the corridor. The blonde Ravenclaw girl stepped out of the darkened alcove nearest to the dorms entrance and his shoulders sagged in relief.”

“Nothing I was just releasing some frustration.”

She pursed her lips and looked up at him thoughtfully.

“You should really work on misplacing your anger. Throwing rocks at the giant squid, yelling in public, physically assaulting non-offending buildings, it’s all a bit unseemly. People might think you’re strange if you keep acting out like that.”

Draco opened his mouth to let out a quick retort about not needing to be coached on how to behave like a normal person by her, when he remembered that he wanted to befriend not offend. So instead he offered her his best pure-blood schooled smile and said.

“Thank you, I’ll take that advice under consideration.”

Her eyes glinted at him as though she could see the inner conflict that had just played out in his mind and was amused by it. He tried to bite back his growing alarm regarding just how observant this girl was.

“I like your real smile better. So if you’re pasting the polite one on for my benefit don’t bother.”

Draco didn’t know how to respond to that. So he waited for her to continue.

“The nargles told me you were looking for me. Is that true?”

 _‘What in the blazes are nargles? Where is she coming up with this stuff? And more importantly how on earth she knew I was looking for her, I didn’t tell anyone.’_ He suppressed the urge to shiver and composedly replied,

“Yes, I was hoping to talk to you about our mutual friend.” He glanced meaningfully at the very unprotected hall they were still standing in and added, “Perhaps somewhere more private.”

“I know just the place.” She smiled brightly and bounded down the hall, forcing Draco to speed walk to keep up with her frolicking skip.

“You’re barefoot!” Draco almost squeaked when he saw her unclothed feet as she climbed the several flights of stairs to where ever it was she was taking him.

“My shoes are missing again.” She replied, not bothering to slow down to answer his question.

“Let me guess, the nargles took them?” He couldn’t resist quipping.

“Don’t be ridiculous. What on earth would nargles do with shoes?” She slowed down as she reached the top of the stair case and waited for Draco to catch up. Draco felt a bit put out that he was in worse shape than her. He was an athlete for Merlin’s sake. Once he reached her at the top she continued. “The girls in my dorm like to hide my stuff sometimes. I don’t usually mind. It’s a bit like hide and seek. But I do wish they wouldn’t take my shoes in the winter. The Hogwarts flagstones are cold.” She shrugged. “But they’ll turn up eventually. I’ve been searching the castle all morning. I’m sure I’ll find them before the day is out.” She smiled optimistically.

Draco found himself feeling a bit bad for her. He had always been at the top of the pecking order in Slytherin. He couldn’t imagine having to worry about not having his shoes in the middle of the winter. He remembered her remark last time about not have any friends in her house and felt even worse.

“Why don’t you just tell the teachers?”

“Would you stop bullying someone just because a teacher told you to?” She asked.

“No, I’d just do a better job not to get caught the next time.” He answered without thinking on what he was saying. “So you’re just going to suffer in silence until you graduate?” He found her passive indifference to what was clearly a prolonged case of hazing both fascinating and appalling.

“Good things come to those who wait; bad things fall on those who hate.” She chirped in her sing songy voice. “Besides, dark times are ahead of us. I don’t have the heart to deny people the few simple pleasures that remain to them.

They came up upon the room of requirement without Draco being conscious that it was where she had been leading him and he felt a momentary wave of panic as he feared that she knew what he was doing in the room of hidden things. He quickly realized his fears were unfounded however, when the door opened into an enclosed garden. She skipped into the room, clearly unsurprised by its highly unconventional appearance.

“What is this place?” He asked as his eyes roved around the room in wonder.

“My mother’s garden or at least the room of requirements best approximation of it. Hers is full of butterflies, but I don’t think the room of requirement conjures bugs.”

“Why did you take me here?”

“You seemed concerned about people overhearing us.” She looked swung her arms around the room. “I’m the only person who comes here, so you can say what you wanted to say.”

He followed her in and closed the door behind him. She had seated herself at a small cafe table that he hadn’t noticed in his initial inspection of the room and she was pulling lemons out of the pocket of her robes. She motioned with her free hand for him to join her. Before he could ask her what she was doing a teapot appeared on the table along with two porcelain teacups.

“Do you care for tea?” She asked, acting all the world as though this was a real garden at her real house and he was a guest she was entertaining.

“You just carry lemons around with you?” She looked up from slicing a lemon and replied,

“I find them less messy to carry around with me than milk and sugar. I hope you don’t mind lemon tea?” She asked, again the perfect hostess. He finally accepted her proffered seat.

“Why don’t you have the room conjured tea supplies?” He finally asked.

“The fifth law of something or other. You’d have to ask Hermione.”

“I’m not exactly on conversational terms with Granger.” He replied.

Luna patted the top of his hand sympathetically. “Give it time. It heals all wounds you know. The two of you will be friends yet. Just look at you and Harry.”

Draco was about to make a strong avowal that he was not friends with Harry Potter when he remembered that the premise that Harry was their mutual friend was the entire basis for him convincing her to spill Harry’s secrets.

“Basically food can’t be conjured and as such the room can’t provide it for us.” She continued explaining about the room, politely ignoring that his mind had quite obviously wandered away from their conversation.

“So do you come here often?” He tried to rejoin the conversation.

“I know why you wanted to see me.” She replied, handing Draco his completed cup of tea as she did so. “You’re going about it all wrong, you know.”

“Going about what wrong?”

“Your courtship of Harry, of course. I know that last time we spoke I said that you could catch more flies with honey but I didn’t mean you to take that literally. Harry isn’t the sort who would enjoy being lured with pheromones. You’re going to scare him off if you pursue him that aggressively.”

“I’m not courting Harry Potter!” Draco’s teacup shook in his hand and spilt all over his trousers.

“Then why did you bond him and use your Veela seduction powers on him?”

Draco flushed. He really wished he had a better answer to that question, especially since people seemed so determined to come to the wrong conclusions.

“I’m worried about Harry. He won’t tell me how the bond is affecting him, but I can tell that he is experiencing unpleasant symptoms. I can’t help him if I don’t know what is wrong.”

Luna took a long drag from her tea and stared intently at Draco.

“You’re not lying. You think you are, but you’re not. Only you can help Harry.” She grabbed his hand from across the table. “I believe in you. You have less wrackspurts now; you’re becoming a better person. Love does that if you let it. Don’t stay in the dark for too long Draco; it’s where all the monsters hide. Adjust and let things be as they should and you’ll see.” She patted his hand again and stood up. “I really must be finding my shoes now. I have Herbology tomorrow and I don’t fancy trudging out in the snow barefoot.”

“But you haven’t told me anything.”

“Oh Draco, I told you I keep my friends secrets. You didn’t honestly think I would betray Harry’s confidence just because you were claiming that you were his friend, did you?”

“I want to know what is wrong with Harry.” He replied stubbornly.

“Sometimes it’s not about what’s wrong, it’s about what’s not right. Only you can make things right with Harry. You should know that much without being told.” She scolded him. “Besides, Harry hasn’t even spoken to me about the Veela bond. He hasn’t spoken to any of his friends. So if you really want to know what’s bothering him you’re going to have to ask him yourself.” She added as she exited the room of requirement and left Draco with his tea soaked trousers and confused thoughts.

0~0~0

Monday, 1/13/1997

“Harry!” Hermione whispered harshly into Harry’s ear. Harry’s eyes jolted open and met hers groggily. “You were dozing off again.” She said quietly, not wanting to alert Professor Sprout to the fact that Harry had been falling asleep in class again. He’d very nearly been given a detention for falling asleep in her class last week and this was already the second time Hermione had caught him nodding off today.

“Sorry.” Harry replied sheepishly, raking his fingers through his hair nervously before he realized that they were still covered in potting soil.

“I’m worried about you.” She admitted. “You’ve been tired a lot lately.”

“I haven’t been sleeping well.” He admitted, staring at his potted plant intently.

“Look at me Harry.” She commanded. He raised his eyes to meet hers obligingly. “I’m your best friend. I care about you. And I’m worried. You’d tell me if something was wrong wouldn’t you?”

When Harry averted his eyes again she felt a crushing pain in her chest.

“You trust me don’t you?” She asked, not bothering to mask the hurt in her voice.

“Of course I trust you.” He replied quickly. “It just…” He hesitated. “There are some things that are hard to talk about. Sometimes it just seems easier to keep things to myself. I don’t like making people worry about me.”

“Well that’s what you are doing by keeping us in the dark.”

“Us? It’s just you Hermione. No one else has said anything.”

Hermione gave him a long suffering stare.

“Well Ron would be worried if he came up for enough of a breather between snogging sessions to notice anything around him. You look horrible Harry.”

“You sure know how to flatter a bloke.” Harry tried to smile disarmingly but Hermione wasn’t fooled.

“I see what you’re doing Harry. I won’t be put off. I’m glad that there’s still enough of your positive Potter spirit left in there to try throwing me off with charm, because to be honest you’ve been a bit grumpy as of late.” She raised her hand to silence him before he could interrupt to defend himself. “But I understand that your grouchiness is likely coming from the same source as your exhaustion. I’m not asking you to apologize to me. I’m just asking you to let me in. Tell me what’s wrong and let me help you.” Her eyes bore into his pleadingly. Harry caved.

“I haven’t slept in nine nights.” He admitted. Hermione’s eyes widened in shock.

“Oh, Harry, that’s horrible. Why didn’t you say anything? Is it the scar?”

“No, it has nothing to do with Voldemort.” He assured her quickly.

“Then what’s bothering you?”

Hermione watched her friend as a series of conflicted emotions flitted across his face. Harry contemplated his answer for so long that Hermione was about to repeat the question again when he finally answered.

“I started having bad dreams around the New Year. I tolerated them for as long as I could, and when I couldn’t take it anymore I started taking keep-awake potion. And before you start lecturing me Hermione, yes I know it’s not good to take that stuff all the time. I’m not an idiot. I just… I need this. I can’t bear the dreams ‘Mione. They are too horrible.”

Hermione looked at her friend sadly. Biting back the tirade against keep-awake potions that he had correctly assumed she had been about to give.

“Sirius?” She asked instead. “Are you having nightmares about the Department of Mysteries again?”

Harry looked at Hermione with eyes so full of relief that Hermione didn’t even know what to make of it.

“Thank you for understanding.” He replied. “Now you see. I can’t sleep. Not until I find a way to make the dreams go away.”

“I could brew you the dreamless sleep draught.” Hermione offered. “It takes a couple weeks to brew though.” She bit her lip thoughtfully. “Though I’m sure if you explained things to Madame Pomfrey she could give you some straight away.”

Harry shook his head fervently.

“I don’t want her to know about it. Too many people know too much about my personal business as it is. Besides, she’d regulate me. She’d limit how often I could use it. There’s no way she’d let me take it every night like I need to.”

Hermione had forgotten about that.

“Harry, I’m sorry. I forgot it’s addictive. You really shouldn’t use dreamless sleep draught on a daily basis. We can find some other solution.”

“No.” Harry grabbed Hermione’s hand from across the work table. “Please Hermione. Please brew it for me. Your offer to brew the dreamless sleep draught was the first ray of hope I’ve felt in nine days. The potion is totally beyond my brewing ability and I can’t owl order it because it’s restricted. I had already abandoned hope of that even being a possibility for me. Please.” Harry pleaded.

“It’s not healthy to use it every day.” Hermione replied weakly.

“It can’t be worse than taking keep awake every day. I’m already up to four doses a day ‘Mione, and as you can see it’s not enough. I’m still crashing. I need sleep.”

Hermione’s resolution wavered. Harry was still clutching her hand and she could feel his desperation in the intensity of his grip.

“Okay, I’ll brew it for you.” Harry’s happiness lit up his eyes and whatever remained of Hermione’s reticence dissolved. “But, you have to promise me that you’ll continue looking for an alternative solution. This has to be temporary.”

“I promise.” He blurted.

Hermione had to smile at his unabashed enthusiasm. She could tell that he would have promised her the moon if she had said those were her terms and she couldn’t deny him this moment of happiness. This was the first real smile she’d seen on his face since before winter break.

“I’ll start the potion tonight.” She promised, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

0~0~0

Friday, 1/17/1997

Harry’s ongoing struggle with his Veela bond had not escaped Dumbledore’s notice. At first he had deemed it best to allow the boy to deal with the burgeoning changes in whatever way made him most comfortable. After all Dumbledore knew some of the symptoms to be of a highly personal nature and could easily understand why a teenage boy wouldn’t wish to discuss them with teachers.

But as the days and now weeks had gone on Dumbledore had noted with increasing concern that Harry’s physical health seemed to be visibly deteriorating. He was surprised, and frankly a little disappointed that none among Harry’s teacher had seemed to notice it, especially since they saw the boy in class and not just during meal times. Would he need to include child safety awareness in some future staff meeting?

But despite the failing powers of observation Harry’s teachers seemed to be experiencing Dumbledore was still sharp as a tack. Harry had grown pale and the bags that had begun to appear just days after Dumbledore’s return at the end of break were now deep and dark and stood out starkly on his tired face. When Dumbledore saw the boy nearly face plant into his morning cereal, only saved by being narrowly caught by his friend, Ms. Granger, Dumbledore knew he needed to speak with the boy.

He dismissed himself from breakfast and went up to the owlery to send the boy and invitation to join him for lunch in his Headmaster’s office. Dumbledore was still quite on his feet, in spite of his advanced years, and he knew that if he made haste he could get the letter delivered to Harry before the boy left the Great Hall and would as such avoid unwanted attention. He knew Harry well enough to know that he would be embarrassed by an open invitation and he would resent the intrusive questioning by his peers that would follow if he were directly approached by the headmaster during breakfast. Dumbledore scrawled out a quick invitation and smiled at himself for his own insight in leaving the purpose of their meeting intriguingly vague.

**Dear Harry,**

**We have not spoken one on one since before Christmas break. It would please me greatly if you would join me in my offices for lunch on Friday, the seventeen. This is a matter of some importance. I expect to see you shortly. Enjoy your morning classes.**

**\- Albus Dumbledore**

0~0~0

Harry clutched the note in his hand as he made his way to the Headmaster’s office. Harry hoped fervently that the Headmaster was waiting for him since he hadn’t deemed fit to include any clue as to the password and Harry was really not in the mood to guess at random candy names at the moment. It had been a horrendous morning so far. The balmy warmth of the potions lab, plus the unusually dark conditions that they had been brewing in so as not to compromise some of the light sensitive brewing ingredients had been the perfect conditions for a class nap. This aside from being incredibly dangerous in a potions class also could have been perilous in other ways. Hermione had been so focused on brewing her own potion that it had taken her several minutes to notice that he had dozed off.

That was the first time in over two weeks that he had slept long enough to start dreaming and he couldn’t help but blush at where his mind had immediately taken him. Harry had to restrain a full body shiver at the thought that Malfoy had been in class with him at that moment. Thank Merlin that Hermione had noticed him sleeping and had woken him before things had escalated too far in the dream. Harry thought he’d rather die than lustily exclaim Draco’s name in the middle of a potions class. In fact he was hard pressed to consider any worse scenario, and he’d already experienced some pretty mortifying ones at Malfoy’s hands in the last couple weeks.

Though he had to grudgingly admit in Malfoy’s defense that he had backed off the pheromones after that kiss in the charms classroom. If possible Harry’s cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red at the memory.

 _‘Now is not the time to be thinking thoughts like this!’_ Harry reproached himself, slapping his cheeks to force the errant thoughts from his mind. _‘I need to be preparing for my meeting with Dumbledore. He said it was important. He might have more news about Voldemort.’_ Harry reminded himself.

As he approached the gargoyle flanked staircase that led to Professor Dumbledore’s offices Harry took a deep sigh to calm himself. The last thing he wanted was to be interrogated about his bond with Malfoy and if Dumbledore saw how disturbed he was that was sure to happen. He came up to the stairs and to his surprise Professor Dumbledore was waiting for him.

000

“It occurred to me belatedly that you didn’t know the password so I thought it best to wait here for you. After all it wouldn’t do for us to have half of your lunch period wasted with you just trying to guess the password now would it?” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. He motioned with his hand for Harry to precede him up the stairs.

Once in their office Harry noticed a small tea table had been set up with a tray of sandwiches.

“I hope you don’t mind the meager refreshments. I find at my age that I can’t stomach the rich lunch offerings that the school often provides in the Great Hall. I infinitely prefer a sandwich and a cup of tea.”

Harry shook his head. “A sandwich is fine, Sir.”

Dumbledore smiled and waved for Harry to take a seat. He poured himself a cup of tea and contemplated his favorite student.

“Do you know why I’ve asked you to join me today Harry?” He began. Years of teaching and later being a headmaster had taught him that you can often learn the most about your student’s thoughts and motives when you ask them to guess at yours.

“Well, your letter said it was important and you alluded to our pre-Christmas meetings so I assumed that you were calling me here to talk more about Tom Riddle and how he became Lord Voldemort. Am I right?”

Dumbledore hummed thoughtfully over his cup of tea.

“A sound deduction,” He began. “Though in this case an incorrect one. Unfortunately, at this time I have no further insight into Tom Riddle’s past to share with you than I did the last time we met. I’m still waiting on the memory from Slughorn that I asked you to retrieve.”

Harry began to apologize, but Dumbledore silenced him with a wave of his hand.

“I did not summon you here to inquire about that either. You’ve been understandably distracted as of late. No, the reason I’ve called you here Harry is your self-care or in this case your woeful lack thereof. I understand that you have been going through a period of adjustment as you adapt and reconcile yourself to some of the symptoms and physiological reactions that are associated with your initiated Veela Bond with Mr. Malfoy.

I had wished to respect your privacy in dealing with those side effects, but these past two weeks have marked a visible decline in the state of your health and as it is I cannot in good conscience continue to allow this downward spiral without intervening. It’s obvious to me that you have not been sleeping. I witnessed your near collapse into your bowl of cereal this morning and it was that final indicator of how weak you have grown that spurred me to call you here. I am not naive Harry. I know the nature of the dreams Veela Bonded experience and I can understand and sympathize with why you would wish to avoid such dreams, especially given the tumultuous nature of your relationship with Mr. Malfoy, but I ask that you think about this rationally while your mind still possesses the necessary mental faculties to do so.

Without sleep you will die Harry. It is miraculous to me that you have continued to function at all given that it has been at least two weeks since you have slept. Whatever embarrassment or discomfort that you are seeking to avoid by refusing sleep can’t possibly compare to dying. Think of the people you would leave behind. The sadness you would cause and the destiny that you would not fulfill. Is your desire to not dream about Draco Malfoy really more important to you than the happiness of your loved ones and the future survival of the wizarding world?”

He paused allowing the boy to absorb his words and respond.

“Sir,” He began. “I didn’t… I know that it must seem like I’ve been reacting childishly, but I promise you I am working on this.”

“Working on this?” Dumbledore quirked his brow at Harry.

“At solving the bond issue or at least, for the time being, solving the dream issue. My friend is brewing me dreamless sleep draught and it will be ready in a few days. That will at least solve any of the immediate concerns you have for me.”

“It would be better if you would just accept the dreams. Fighting against the symptoms is always only a temporary endeavor. It was my understanding that Professor Snape had given you a book to read on Veela bonds. Did the book not cover that?” Dumbledore was incredulous.

Harry looked away and replied sheepishly. “I haven’t actually finished the book, Sir. I haven’t touched it again since the night he gave me the book.” At Dumbledore’s look of disapproval Harry added. “I’ve been too tired for recreational reading. It’s been challenging enough to keep up with my school work.”

“You wouldn’t be tired if you let yourself sleep, Harry. And I’d hardly consider a book given to you to help you understand your bond and the symptoms it is causing you to be ‘recreational reading’. I want you to finish that book and I want you to sleep tonight am I understood?” Dumbledore’s tone brooked no argument.

Harry nodded.

“Good,” Dumbledore’s demeanor brightened visibly at Harry acquiescence. “Now with all that unpleasantness is past us why don’t we tuck into these sandwiches?” Dumbledore asked, helping himself to a cucumber chicken sandwich.

“Yes, sir.” Harry tried to smile at Dumbledore’s obvious concern, but his mind was already thinking about tonight. Without the potion he would dream again.


	8. A Rude Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets caught having naughty dreams by the last person he would ever want to know about them.

Author notes:

_Italicized words are character thoughts_

**_Italicized & boldfaced words are dream sequences or memories_ **

**Boldfaced words are in text reading materials (like books or letters)**

000 Represents a shift in character perspective

0~0~0 Represents a shift in scene (often followed by the date the new scene takes place if it is on a different day than the prior scene)

Chapter 8: A Rude Awakening

Friday, 1/17/1997

Harry’s afternoon classes passed in a daze as he mulled over Dumbledore’s words and their implications on his life. He knew the Headmaster was right and that not sleeping was at best a temporary solution and at worse dangerous to his health, but he had really hoped that he would be able to hold out until Hermione finished brewing dreamless sleep draught for him.

Harry tried not to brood on the fact that he would already have the dreamless sleep draught if he had just confided in Hermione sooner because whenever he did he wanted to kick himself. As it was she hadn’t been able to start brewing until the thirteenth because he hadn’t been honest with her until the thirteenth. He knew he still wasn’t being honest with her, but he wasn’t ready to let his friends in on the truth about what was happening between himself and Malfoy.

He stumbled through the portrait of the fat lady and across the common room to the boys’ dormitory. Harry was shaking uncontrollably now, despite his six doses of keep-awake potion a day he could still barely keep his eyes open.

He was going on fourteen days without sleep now and he could feel himself breaking, shattering under the oppressive weight of his own exhaustion. He knew that this couldn’t go on, that he couldn’t live like this anymore. Especially not now that Dumbledore was watching him. He looked at his Gryffindor four poster with longing. A very real part of him wanted to take Dumbledore’s advice and just suck it up and go to sleep, but he couldn’t risk the exposure.

“No, I can’t sleep here.” He mumbled to himself aloud, “Anyone could hear me here.” If his roommates had been around to hear him they probably would have thought he sounded crazed. His behavior of late had been concerning enough without needing to add hovering beside their beds while mumbling to himself in the middle of the afternoon to their list of concerns. Lucky for him no one was in the dormitory at this hour to hear his paranoid ramblings.

Not that he was even fully conscious that he was speaking out loud. At some point between four doses of keep awake a day and his current six he had lost that level of self-awareness. His sole focus now was the preservation of his secret. People couldn’t know about the Veela bond. Though he had no definitive reason to assume he made noises while he dreamed he wasn’t willing to take the risk. If nothing else someone might notice him as he woke. Might see his body jerk awake, might notice his flushed face, or the way his pajama bottoms clung to him. _‘No, he could never dream in this dorm again. Dreams aren’t safe here anymore.’_

 _‘Tonight.’_ He resolved to himself, _‘tonight, once all of my roommates are sleeping I’ll slip back out of the dormitory and escape to the one place where I can sleep without risk of someone discovering my secret.’_

And so it was that on the fourteenth night since he last slept he crept under his invisibility cloak and tread a silent path up to the room of requirement. There would be no one to judge him there.

“Show me a room where no one can learn about the bond, show me a room where no one can learn about the bond, show me a room where no one can learn about the bond.” He wished as he paced back and forth in front of the space of wall where the door to the room appeared.

He opened the door to the room of requirement to find a room comfortably furnished with a couch, a decorative chaise lounge, two armchairs, a roaring fireplace, and in the far corner a plush looking four poster bed. Harry heaved a sigh of relief. He still wasn’t happy but at least he’d be comfortable and his secret would remain safe.

0~0~0

Saturday, 1/18/1997

As had become his habit since that Slytherin bint had tried to molest him a couple weeks prior; Draco woke with the dawn. He figured it was better to rise early on his own terms than to have to deal with an embarrassing situation like that again. Though he had initially felt put out by this necessity he quickly came to appreciate the perks of waking up before the rest of his peers.

Draco enjoyed his privacy and as such had never been particularly fond of the sharing the bathroom with the other boys from his year. He enjoyed being able to take luxurious undisturbed baths and being able to able to take his time getting ready in the morning without be jeered at or called a ponce. Not that anyone in his year would dare, he had them all under his thumb, but they might think it which to his estimation was almost as bad. To avoid the unspoken scorn of his roommates Draco had reined in his grooming habits in the past to suit the norms of his peers. He relished no longer being reduced to their lax standards.

Another perk of having time alone in the morning is that it allowed Draco to quietly think and sort himself out before he had to put on his Malfoy mask and face the world. He felt more unsettled than usual today. It was a vague and undefined sort of unease and he couldn’t quite place it. _‘Undoubtedly this blasted situation with Potter is to blame.’_ He still hadn’t quite been able to reconcile his feelings of guilt toward Potter with the animosity and rivalry that was their norm. Apologizing wasn’t in his nature. Add ‘never say sorry’ to the list of unofficial Malfoy family mottos. He couldn’t shake the sense that he had deeply wronged Potter. The rant, its extensiveness, hearing all the charges laid out at once. It was a bit much for Draco, who had been raised believing he could do no wrong and that emotions like empathy were for the weak.

As he contemplated Potter’s accusations for the billionth time, his feet carried him down the twisted corridors of the castle without him being consciously aware of where he was headed. When he found himself in front of the room of hidden things on the seventh floor he wasn’t exactly surprised. It had after all practically been a second home to him this school year, and after his bizarre teatime with the Ravenclaw girl, whose name he still hadn’t managed to pin down, he was recognizing the potential the room really had. No, he didn’t want to go into the room with his broken cabinet. That was a fragment from his past now, one best left forgotten.

But the room still held potential despite his less than happy memories there. Having seen how the girl had transformed the room into a special place of comfort suited to herself. Draco wanted his own personalized haven too. It could be anything he wanted, anything he needed. But what did he need?

He paced back and forth three times, imagining his request, repeating it in his mind. ‘Show me what I need, show me what I need, show me what I need.

He opened the door and bit back a gasp. It was a small intimate sort of room. It had a large ornate fire place flanked with two overstuffed armchairs in ivory colored leather with a long matching chaise lounge, and in the far corner stood large four poster bed draped with violet curtains. The walls were covered with a gray and silver damask wallpaper and built in bookshelves lined the wall opposite the fireplace. Though the modest, albeit cozy, elegance of the room wasn’t what he had imagined the room would conjure for him he wasn’t overly alarmed by the choice, it was at least comfortable looking and tastefully decorated.

What did surprise him however, was the undeniable fact that the bed was presently occupied. As he quietly approached the slumbering stranger he was forced to stifle a second gasp when he realized who it was he was interloping on. ‘ _HARRY POTTER’_ His mind screamed. ‘ _Why on earth is Harry Potter here?!?!’_

 _‘Can the room summon people?’_ He wondered. In all the time that he had used the room of requirement no other person had ever made the right request to gain entry to the room while he was in it. Had he really made the right guess as to what Potter’s room would be? Or was it just that whatever Potter had asked for hadn’t specified any desire for privacy. He supposed that was likely enough. It wouldn’t be the first time that Potter had carelessly forgotten to ward himself against intruders. He had failed to craft the room with strong enough defenses to keep Umbridge out just the year before. Yes, this was likely just another shining example of Potter oversight.

What was more concerning to Draco was the fact that the room of requirement seemed to think that this was what he needed. He didn’t NEED Potter. He didn’t even want Potter, certainly not. He walked over to the edge of the bed and held back a derisive snort. _‘Haven’t slept in days my arse.’_ It figured that Potter had been exaggerating. To think he had felt bad enough for him that he had actually gone to Severus concerned.

He stepped still closer and inspected Potter’s sleeping face. His bangs were draped over his forehead effectively masking his famed scar and his glasses were tipped slightly off kilter by their contact with the pillow. Perfectionist that he was Draco couldn’t stand to see them left askew and he compulsively reached out to set them straight. The slide of the glasses back up the bridge of his nose caused Potter to stir slightly, shifting on the bed and practically giving Draco a heart attack.

“Draco.” Potter breathed. His eyes flickered beneath his lids.

Draco sighed inwardly. _‘He’s just dreaming.’_ He reassured himself. Though he continued watch Potter curiously.

**000**

**_Harry bit his lip as he choked back an involuntary gasp of pleasure. Draco’s lips were nestled against the crook of his neck while two slippery fingers buried themselves deep within Harry’s warmth, stroking him sensually._ **

**_Harry’s lips parted in a silent moan, eyes rolling into his head as Draco’s finger swiped across his sweet spot._ **

**_“Draco,” He panted._ **

**_“Do you like that?” Draco purred against his throat._ **

**_“Ungh,” Harry nodded vigorously as Draco purposely stroked his prostate. “Don’t stop.” Harry demanded. Arse cheeks clenching insistently around Draco’s exploring digits. Draco removed his fingers, smiling as Harry glared at him._ **

**_“I think you’re ready for a third.” Draco explained. He sat up away from Harry and reapplied the lube to his three fingers. Harry looked on nervously. “Don’t be afraid, I’m going to make this really good for you. You’re going to like it. I promise.”_ **

**_Harry nodded. He trusted Draco and everything they had done so far had felt amazing beyond belief._ **

**_As Draco positioned his slick fingers against Harry’s opening he used his other hand to take a hold of Harry’s prick. Harry braced himself for Draco to stroke him in tandem with the thrusts of his fingers, they’d done that before and he’d loved it, but that’s not what Draco did._ **

**_Draco leaned forward, his face hovering above Harry’s twitching member, and his platinum hair tickling Harry’s exposed abs. Harry didn’t have more than a moment to speculate on what Draco was doing before without warning he engulfed Harry in the wet heat of his mouth._ **

**_Harry didn’t even notice the resumed probing of Draco’s fingers in his arse. He was too lost in the exquisite sensation of Draco’s lips bobbing up and down his shaft. The feel of Draco’s tongue as it flicked his frenulum on every upward stroke. The combined sensations were maddening and Harry lost himself to the heat of it; thrashing and moaning shamelessly._ **

**_Harry hips bucked of their own accord and Draco took it without complaining. Not that he really could complain with Harry’s dick in his throat, but Draco didn’t seem displeased. He swallowed around Harry’s swollen head causing Harry’s body to reflexively shudder in ecstasy._ **

**_Draco’s mouth was tight around Harry’s shaft. He cheeks hollowing as he slid tip to base with in a steady tempo. It was the most erotic sight Harry had ever seen, and he forced himself to keep his eyes open so he could burn the sight of it into his mind._ **

**_Harry was becoming aware of the fingers once again. They were thrusting in and out of him in a smooth but determined plunging motion, it felt completely different than the swirling massaging caresses that Draco had done before. This was firmer; this was pushing him open, stretching him. Harry wanted more._ **

**_Draco’s eyes bore into Harry’s and the unadulterated lust that shone in them nearly took whatever remained of Harry’s breath away._ **

**_Draco’s lips slid off his cock with a satisfying popping sound. His mouth was red and swollen from sucking cock and Harry felt an overwhelming urge to kiss him and to taste himself on Draco’s swollen lips. Draco husky voice interrupted his lewd musings._ **

**_“I need to fuck you, Harry, please.” The lilt in Draco’s voice was pleading but in his eyes Harry could see the demanding need._ **

**_Harry nodded, he’d known it was leading to this since he’d felt Draco’s fingers transition from pleasuring him to preparing him. Despite his nodded assent Draco remained still. He needed verbal confirmation, permission, assurance that it was okay._ **

**_Harry reached out for him caressing his shoulder._ **

**_“I want you.” Harry reassured simply as he pulled at Draco’s shoulder, inviting him to climb on top of him._ **

**_Draco looked uncharacteristically nervous. He climbed off the bed and removed the clothing that in their haste they hadn’t yet discarded. When he pulled off his pants his cock slapped wetly against his torso._ **

**_Harry unabashedly ogled Draco, mesmerized by the way the light illuminated him, defining his muscles and the chiseled curves of his svelte body._ **

**_“You’re so beautiful.” Harry breathed._ **

**_Malfoy flashed him his signature smirk as he slathered lube onto his erection. He fisted himself for a few pumps, spreading the lube and luxuriating in the contact of his palm against his aching cock._ **

**_“Merlin, I need you.” He groaned, climbing back on top of Harry. He leaned down capturing Harry’s lips in a tender kiss while he positioned his eager tip at Harry’s rectum. Draco swallowed Harry’s moan as he languidly breached him. He gently caressed Harry as he held their mouths and bodies tightly together._ **

**_Draco pressed in until he was buried to the hilt, his balls stilled against Harry’s cheeks and there he rested until Harry could adjust to his girth._ **

**_Harry’s body tensed beneath Draco as his body initially resisted the intrusion. But his lover continued to caress his shoulder soothingly, distracting him from his discomfort with impassioned kisses and whispered words of encouragement and endearment until Harry to felt ready to continue._ **

**_Harry’s trapped prick twitched impatiently between their pressed stomachs and Draco broke the kiss, eyes seeking Harry’s and finding approval. They pressed their foreheads against each other and panted with the effort of holding back._ **

**_“I can’t begin to describe how amazing you feel around me. I need to move, Harry.”_ **

**_Harry bucked his hips beneath him, squirming suggestively, slipping his enthralled lover’s cock fractionally deeper and stealing away whatever remained of Draco’s restraint._ **

**_Draco slid back out leaving only the tip inside as he watched Harry’s reaction._ **

**_“Don’t stop. Just fuck me already.” Harry’s pupils were blown wide with lust and frustration and using his legs, which he had wrapped around Draco waist, he drove the blond back into him earning himself a surprised but not displeased grunt from his lover._ **

**_“So that’s how you want it?” Draco panted as he slid in and out of Harry in short rapid mini thrusts._ **

**_“Deeper.” Harry commanded through gritted teeth as his legs buried Draco to the hilt inside him again in demonstration._ **

**_Not one to be teased, Draco braced himself up onto his forearms and slammed into Harry full force, retracting his engorged head out slowly and pounding back in just as fiercely in a rhythmic beat that rocked Harry’s body and slammed the bed into the wall with reckless abandon._ **

**_The sound of the clawed wooden bedposts scraping against the stone floor punctuated each inward thrust and Harry lost himself in the almost musical quality of Draco’s fierce lovemaking. He grappled with the conflicting feelings of pain and pleasure, the contrary sensations of aching fullness and ecstasy when Draco’s inward thrusts chanced on his prostate._ **

**_His nails dug unconsciously into Draco’s back as he clung to him, and his body felt simultaneously tense and limp. Harry no longer seemed to have command of his limbs. He was just a vessel, a conduit for Draco’s pleasure, and he found he didn’t mind that at all._ **

**_Even if he weren’t consumed by his own pleasure, which he was, Harry felt he could have been vicariously sated at the sight of Draco’s._ **

**_Harry had never seen Draco’s face this expressive before. The determined gaze that bore into Harry, the clenched jaw, and the delicate sheen of sweat on Draco’s brow that seemed to emphasize his single minded focus was enough to leave Harry breathless with lust and affection. Not to mention the feel of Draco’s cock. The possession of it, the sense of rightness it imparted as it delved into Harry most intimate depths._ **

**_Harry bit his lips so hard he was surprised he didn’t draw blood. His back arched as his shoulders dug into the down pillows beneath him and he cried out,_ **

**_“Cum into me Draco.” The words left Harry’s mouth before he had any conscious thought of even thinking them._ **

**_Unexpectedly Draco pulled out._ **

**_“No. We cum together.” He replied, voice husky from fucking. He pressed their cocks together and grabbed them savagely between his two hands, stroking them in unison._ **

**_Harry had wanted to finish with Draco inside him, but found himself unable to complain with the Draco touching him like that. Something was so intimate about rubbing their pricks together. Their most intimate parts slid against one another, pushing each other to completion._ **

**_“Merlin Draco, don’t stop.” Harry panted as his fingers curled frantically into the blankets beneath them._ **

**_“Never. I’ll never stop.” Draco promised as his grip tightening on their joined members and he increased his speed._ **

**_Harry thrust into his lover’s hand wantonly chasing the pleasure burning on the edge of his consciousness._ **

**_“I’m close. I’m so close.” Harry murmured as his eyes rolled back into his head._ **

**_“Come with me Harry.” Draco commanded, squeezing them together in a feverish finale until they exploded in unison._ **

**_“Draco!”_ **

000

Draco stood transfixed as he watched Harry sleep. What had begun as innocent curiosity at the mention of his name had quickly turned into borderline voyeurism as the nature of Harry’s dream became increasingly obvious. He hadn’t needed to watch Harry for very long to notice that Harry was unusually mobile for a sleeping person. And it took him even less time to appreciate the erotic nature of Harry’s movements.

The way Harry sighed and squirmed on the bed, sometimes clenching his buttocks or jutting his hips forward left no doubt what sort of activities dream Harry was engaging in. Draco felt the heat rising to his cheeks as Harry bit his lip and grunted seductively.

 _‘I should go.’_ Draco thought to himself. _‘This is private. Potter would be livid if he knew someone was seeing him like this.’_ As though testing Draco’s resolve Harry arched his back suggestively, moaning in his sleep.

“Don’t stop.” Harry demanded.

 _‘I need to get out of here. Potter will kill me if he finds me here.’_ Draco tried to tear his eyes away from Harry’s flushed face.

“I want you.” Harry’s voice seemed almost reassuring. Draco’s heart fluttered in his chest.

 _‘He’s not talking to you, he is talking to the dream, now get out of here before he catches you watching him, you idiot.’_ Draco mentally admonished himself. But his feet stayed locked in place and his eyes never strayed from the mesmerizing dance of emotions that flickered across Harry’s sleeping face.

“You’re so beautiful.” Harry whispered, seemingly echoing Draco’s thoughts.

Draco watched on in silence, no longer trying to force himself away. Whatever happened when Harry woke up was worth it. The way Harry was splaying his legs and grinding his arse against the sheets was impossible to look away from.

“Don’t stop. Just fuck me already.” Dream Harry commanded huskily.

Draco swallowed thickly. His trousers were undeniably tight now and he wasn’t even bothering to delude himself as to why he was still watching. He’d deal with confused emotions later.

“Deeper.” Harry ordered, thrusting his hips forward.

 _‘How is this not waking him up?’_ Draco wondered in mild amazement.

“Cum into me Draco.” Harry’s voice dripped with unfulfilled want, practically pleading. Draco’s prick twitched at the mention of his name. Somehow he’d forgotten that he was in Harry’s dream and that the initial mention of his name was why he had started watching Harry in the first place.

 _‘Harry is dreaming about me. Harry is dreaming that I’m buggering him. He’s begging for it.’_ Draco’s hands balled into fists as he forced himself to remain still. To not reach forward and touch him, to grab him, wake him from his fantasy.

 _‘And do what exactly?’_ He thought bitterly _‘What are you even thinking? It’s not like the two of you would just pick up from where ever he left off in the dream. He’d probably hex you within an inch of your life if he even knew you were thinking about it.’_ He mentally argued with himself. _‘My god, why am I even thinking about this?’_ Draco felt like he was going crazy. _‘I don’t want Harry Potter. I’m not thinking about Harry Potter like that.’_ He chanted to himself. _‘Though clearly Harry Potter is thinking of you like that.’_ His mind countered rebelliously. An assertion supported moments later when Harry cried out again in his sleep.

“Merlin Draco, don’t stop!” Harry clutched desperately out at the sheets of the bed.

Draco bit the inside of his cheek as his finger nails drew blood from the palms of his hands.

 _‘What am I still doing here?’_ He thought desperately. _‘Harry could wake up any second and I’m not fit to be seen by him like this.’_ He realized, noticing the obvious bulge in his pants. For the first time since Draco had first noticed the sleeping Harry he looked away. The door was a mere twenty feet away. He could escape and Harry would never know he had been here. Harry would never know that Draco had seen him like this. He would never know that Draco knew about the dreams. It was easy enough to surmise now why it was Harry had been foregoing sleep. Though to his eyes the dreams seemed pleasant enough. He shook his head. _‘Thoughts like that aren’t helping.’_ He took a step toward the door and chanced one last glance at Harry.

“I’m close, I’m so close.” Harry murmured has his hips bucked forward.

 _‘Shit!’_ Draco thought frantically, _‘I waited too long.’_ His body froze in place as Harry’s body tensed, shuddered and visibly released.

“Draco!” Harry moaned as his climax woke him. His eyes shot open and for one brief second Draco saw the pleasure and lust that Harry’s dream had spoken of.

Unfortunately, Harry quickly became aware of his surroundings and when his eyes locked onto the Draco’s gaping face the warm sated gaze of dream Harry quickly transformed into one of abject loathing.

Draco watched in horror as the Harry’s pleasure flushed face turned deathly white and Harry clutched at his throat as though he were going to be sick.

Without preamble Harry flung himself from the bed and for one horrible second Draco was afraid Harry was going to fight him.

Which, given the pseudo-intimacy they had just shared, was not something he felt up to at the moment. But his concerns were unfounded because without so much as a word or a backward glance Harry fled the room of requirement. Leaving Draco stunned, confused, and unfortunately, still very aroused.

 _‘What have I done?’_ Draco cursed himself.


	9. Knowing is Half the Battle?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys react to the incident in the room of requirement.

Author notes:

_Italicized words are character thoughts_

**_Italicized & boldfaced words are dream sequences or memories_ **

**Boldfaced words are in text reading materials (like books or letters)**

000 Represents a shift in character perspective

0~0~0 Represents a shift in scene (often followed by the date the new scene takes place if it is on a different day than the prior scene)

Chapter 9: Knowing is Half the Battle?

 Saturday, 1/18/1997

Draco stared blankly at the door to the Room of Requirement as his mind struggled to catch up with what had just transpired. He had come here, unaware that the room was occupied, and found Potter writhing on the bed, calling out filthy suggestive things and very clearly dreaming that he was being fucked by Draco. Then he came, woke up, saw Draco, looked like his puppy had just been killed in front of him, and then fled the room before Draco could say anything.

“Right.” Draco looked around himself as if to assure himself that all of that was real. The tousled state of the bed sheets and his still painfully hard cock would suggest that yes that had really just happened. “Bugger.”

 His hand reached down and grazed the bulge that was distorting the well ironed lines of his tailored trousers. “What is happening to my life?” He asked no one in particular. “And why the fuck am I still hard!?” He demanded angrily, twining his fingers through his hair as he flopped himself down onto the now vacant bed in frustration.

 If Draco thought that a quick lie down would relax him and banish his unwanted arousal he was quickly disabused of that notion. For as soon as he collapsed onto the bed a rush of Potter’s scent rose up around him. Draco knew his smell from their many quidditch fumbles and corridor fights, it was a salty citrus mixture of sweat and fruity school soap that was somehow both common and uniquely Potter in a way Draco wasn’t sure he could explain.

 The sheets were still warm where Potter had lain and they felt slightly damp from his sweat. Draco could feel Potter’s warmth radiating through his back and his thoughts flickered back to the scene that had caused such heat.

 _‘Does Potter dream like that every night?’_ He wondered, blushing at the realization that his longtime rival might be cumming every night with Draco’s name on his lips. Unbidden visions of Potter squirming and clutching desperately for the sheets while begging for Draco’s cock invaded his mind.

His pants were down his thighs and his hands were vigorously working his cock before Draco realized what he was doing and by then he couldn’t stop himself. His mind replayed everything Potter did and said while Draco wanked himself savagely. Potter groaning and biting his lower lip. ‘Don’t stop.’ His back arching suggestively. ‘I want you.’ His lips parting. ‘You’re so beautiful.’ His arse grinding against the sheets. ‘Don’t stop. Just fuck me already.’ Thrusting wantonly at the air. ‘Deeper!’ Thrashing erratically. ‘Cum into me Draco!’

And Draco came, in long white spurts across his torso and the sheets still damp with Potter’s sweat. As the lustful fog that had clouded his mind cleared Draco remembered the look in Potter’s sated green eyes when he woke and how they had turned cold with loathing when they saw him. How Potter had looked ill and fled from the room rather than face Draco.

Draco felt suddenly very cold. He laid there unmoving for several minutes just staring at the ceiling and wondering what the fuck had happened to his life that he was now wanking to fantasies of Harry Potter in the same room that he had formerly used to serve the Dark Lord.

“How the bloody hell am I supposed to face Potter now?” He asked the room bitterly, as though this whole mess was the room’s fault for bringing him here. But the room of requirement gave him no answers.

0~0~0

 _‘Shit, fuck, shit!’_ Harry cursed mentally as he fled the room of requirement. _‘He saw me. He heard me. He knows.’_ Harry felt sick to his stomach. He was all the way back to the fat lady before he realized that he was still in his pajamas and that he hadn’t cleaned himself from the dream. Embarrassed, he waved of his wand and cast scourgifying and drying spells on his pants. He wasn’t proud of how good he’d gotten at that.

 He crawled through the portrait hole, blissfully thankful that the Gryffindor common room was still empty. He had no idea what time it was but he knew it must be early if no one was up. He wanted to know why Malfoy was in the room of requirement at the crack of dawn. How had he known Harry would be there? How had he gotten in? Harry hoped fervently that Hogwarts immune apparation wasn’t going to be some other as yet unknown Veela horror that he was going to have to put up with. He made a mental note to look at that damn Veela memoir again later. He had promised Dumbledore after all.

Harry tried to push the memory of the dream from his mind as he climbed the steps to the 6th year boys’ dorm, but the images, sounds, and remembered sensations wouldn’t be blotted out.

The feel of their heated bodies grinding against each other, the sound of their pleasured moans, the taste of his kisses, the skill of his tongue, the grip of his hands around their joined members, and the filthy things dream Harry had said to him. Harry flushed just thinking about it.

Hardest of all to banish was the remembered sensation of fullness. He now knew what it felt like to have Draco’s cock inside of him. _‘I can NOT start thinking of him as Draco!’_ Harry silently admonished himself as he tried fervently to ignore that these thoughts were reinvigorating his spent cock.

Harry hated his traitorous body almost as much as he hated this bloody Veela curse. Why had he never come that hard thinking of Ginny or Cho? Harry had never felt as good touching himself as he had felt in that dream and he was afraid of what that meant.

Cursing his stupid body, his stupid dreams, and this highly troubling train of thought Harry treated himself to an agonizingly cold shower. There he remained until long after his fingers were pruney and his body was so cold he shivered painfully. He only left when the bathroom began to fill up with the rest of the boys from his dorm.

0~0~0

Draco took meticulous care fixing his clothes and coiffing his hair when he finally managed to rouse himself from the now twice sexed bed.

His emotions proved the larger challenge to set to rights. It took a nearly continuous self-pep talk to force himself down there stairs down to the Great Hall for breakfast, but he couldn’t afford to be seen breaking habit. He wouldn’t lose face to Potter.

 _‘Stupid Potter.’_ He cursed him. _‘It was totally natural for me to respond that way to seeing someone moaning like that, begging for my cock, calling out my name as they cum. It would be stranger if I didn’t react.’_ He tried to reassure himself.

 _‘It means nothing. It has nothing to do with him and everything to do with the situation. It could have been anyone. It just HAPPENED to be Potter. He caught me off guard. It was early. My defenses were down. I haven’t wanked in months thanks to the stress of that bloody mission and now this stupid bond. Yes, that’s it.’_ He felt momentarily encouraged by this train of thought.

_‘I was just frustrated, on edge. Anyone would have done. I only thought of him because he was there and seeing him was got me wound up in the first place. Not that I was wound up about HIM. It was the situation. It could have been anyone. I’m NOT attracted to Potter. I don’t want to shag Potter. I don’t want to see Potter writhe beneath me and beg for my cock and scream my name.’_

At was at the point in the downward spiral of his inner monologue where his cock started stiffening again that Draco realized that his rationalizations were making things worse instead of better and he gave up trying to reassure himself in favor of safer topics for thought like breakfast.

 _‘I’m going to have the driest toast and the blackest coffee Hogwarts house elves can make.’_ He promised himself. How that was going to help anything he didn’t pretend to know, but if felt good to have some plan of action. He waited outside the doors to the Great Hall until he felt one hundred percent certain that he had fully composed himself.

It was better to miss breakfast entirely and invite speculation of that kind than it was to show up with anything less than his usual Malfoy composure. He could explain away missing a meal as a lack of hunger. There was no adequate explanation for showing up frazzled or Merlin forbid aroused.

As he entered the room his eyes immediately shot to the Gryffindor table. But there was no telltale mess of black hair. Draco tried to convince himself that he was relieved rather than disappointed by Potter’s absence as he took his usual seat at the Slytherin table, but the way his eyes continually drifted to Potter’s empty seat belied his true feelings.


	10. The Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both boys become increasing aware of the inevitable truth, but there's a world of difference between knowing something and accepting it.

Author notes:

_Italicized words are character thoughts_

**_Italicized & boldfaced words are dream sequences or memories_ **

**Boldfaced words are in text reading materials (like books or letters)**

000 Represents a shift in character perspective

0~0~0 Represents a shift in scene (often followed by the date the new scene takes place if it is on a different day than the prior scene)

Chapter 10: The Fall

Saturday, 1/18/1997

Harry was surprised by how uneventful the rest of Saturday passed. He had decided almost immediately after dressing that he wasn’t fit to face Malfoy yet. Really, he’d rather never face him again at all, but he knew realistically that at best he could put it off until Monday so that would have to do.

His resolve was immediately tested when his entrance into the common room precisely coincided with Hermione’s descent from the girl’s dorm and she honed in on him instantly.

“Breakfast?” She asked. She eyed him intently as though deciding between looking concerned or looking pleased. “You look like you’ve slept.” She finally added when Harry made no response to her earlier entreaty.

“I don’t have much of an appetite this morning.” He replied, causing Hermione to furrow her eyebrows.

“Just because you’re sleeping that doesn’t mean you can give up food Harry. You can’t trade one basic need for another.” She chided.

“I’m not giving up food. I’ll eat just not now and not in the Great Hall.”

“What’s wrong with the Great Hall?” Her voice dipped in concern.

“Nothing, there are just some people I’d rather not run into...” Harry let his voice trail off in the vain hope that she wouldn’t prod further.

“Harry, you should really eat.”

“Then bring me up some scones if you’re so worried. Honestly, Hermione I can wait until lunch.”

“Don’t get snappish with me Harry. I’m just worried about you. You haven’t been yourself lately and frankly it’s been affecting your health. I know you think you tried to be coy about it, but I saw that Dumbledore sent you an owl so clearly I’m not the only one concerned. You need to take better care of yourself.”

“I slept last night.” Harry replied, hoping that would mollify her.

“I can see that and I’m pleased. Just,” She sighed heavily, “I don’t mean to nag you Harry, just promise me you’ll eat a proper lunch and I’ll leave you alone.”

Harry raised three fingers and replied “Scout’s honor.” The two shared a smile over the muggle reference they knew would have been over Ron’s head if he had been here for the conversation.

“And I’m holding you to your word that you’ll eat the scones I bring back, so no complaining!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He smiled as he watched his friend disappear through the portrait hole, happy that he had people in his life who cared about him enough to notice when he is unwell. His heart panged in guilt at the fact that he was lying to her about the nature of his dreams. He WOULD tell her about Malfoy eventually, but he needed to make peace with the bond first before he took on the extra burden of his friends’ opinions about it. And if one more person told him that becoming Malfoy’s mate was inevitable and that he should just consummate the bond and be done with it… Harry sighed. At least he felt fairly certain that neither Ron nor Hermione would be of that opinion.

When Hermione returned she brought with her enough scones, jam, and clotted cream to feed half the Gryffindor dorm.

“So I guess this takes care of lunch, eh?” Harry teased. She just smiled at him.

“So, are you going to tell me why you were so upset this morning?” She asked.

“Do I have to?” He asked hoping she would take his hesitance as a hint to drop it.

“I can’t help you if you don’t let me in Harry. You know you can trust me with anything.”

Harry’s eyes scanned the common room. It was still mostly vacant since the weather was nice and most people had better things to do on a Saturday than hang out in the common room. Harry sighed, _‘a partial truth wouldn’t hurt’_. He resolved to himself.

“Yesterday Dumbledore ordered me to stop taking the keep-awake and start sleeping.” Harry explained. Dumbledore hadn’t actually said anything about the keep-awake, but since he wasn’t ready to tell her about the bond that small white lie was necessary. “I still didn’t want to risk waking my dorm mates and facing their questions so I took the cloak and I spent the night in the room of requirement.”

“So you dreamed again last night.” She surmised. “But, why would that make you unable to leave the dorm today?”

“Malfoy saw me right after I woke up. I was still visibly disturbed by the dream, wearing my pajamas, and he saw me leaving the room of requirement. Being seen weak and vulnerable like that by him just rattled me. Now that he knows I was sleeping in the room of requirement I can’t use it like that anymore. He could report me and I could get caught out at night after curfew. So now on top of everything else I’m going to have to start having my nightmares here. I’m going to wake everyone up, answer all sorts of uncomfortable prying questions. To add insult to injury I just know Malfoy is going to smug as can be with his stupid smirking Slytherin face. Lording my humiliation over me, just luxuriating in my misery as always. I just couldn’t face it today.”

“Oh Harry.” She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly. “I’m so glad you told me. This is something I can help with. Well, at least the first part. There’s really nothing I can do about Malfoy being a prat. But I can cast silencing and privacy charms on your four poster so you don’t have to worry about your dorm mates. Do you think that would help?”

Harry’s eyes lit up. “Yes, Hermione. Thank you. Knowing that I can sleep in my bed and not worry about being caught having nightmares like a little kid would definitely help. What would I do without you?”

“Oh I don’t know, fail miserably at history of magic and spend all your free time playing quidditch and skiving off on your homework.” She grinned.

Harry laughed. It felt good, being well rested and able to have friendly banter with his friends again. He hadn’t realized how much he had lost by just skating through in a keep-awake induced haze of consciousness.

“Speaking of History of Magic…” he shouldered her teasingly.

“Oh alright, I’ll help you with your essay, but only because I already told Ron I wouldn’t help him and it will burn him something wicked to see us working on it together.” She winked. Harry sincerely hoped his two friends would work out their tensions with each other soon, but he wasn’t above capitalizing on Ron’s mistakes.

“Was he snogging Lavender in the common room again?”

“Shamelessly, I mean honestly he’s a prefect for Merlin’s sake! We’re supposed to set a good example for the younger students.” She ranted. They both knew that wasn’t why it upset her, but if he wasn’t going to be one hundred percent up front with her than he wasn’t going to call her out on keeping her own secrets.

The rest of the day passed buried in books. In addition to helping Harry write his History of Magic essay Hermione also edited his Potions paper, which was rather substandard now that he wasn’t adding tidbits from the half-blood Prince’s book, an omission Hermione seemed rather pleased about. She even helped him master the transfiguration spell that he had been struggling with for the past two weeks.

Hermione surprised him by staying in the dorm with him at dinner time. Even when he summoned Dobby to have food delivered from the kitchens she bit back her usual lecture on house-elf rights and only shot him a slightly indignant glare. She even went so far as to eat the food.

At night she charmed his bed to high heavens, largely using spells that Harry had never heard of and was vaguely curious why she even knew. When he asked she'd eventually admittedly, with a bit of a blush, that she had been informed that she was a rather loud snorer and had been similarly silencing her bed for years.

When she finally parted and Harry was faced with having to go to bed and having to dream again his warm feelings from his surprisingly good day left him and the familiar dread settled back in. Though he was pleased that his roommates wouldn’t hear him he still wasn’t really relishing the idea of climaxing in a room full of his friends. But needs must…

0~0~0

**_“Mmm, you’re so warm.” The voice behind him whispered. The words fluttered Harry’s hair and tickled the back of his ear. “It’s so cold in the dungeons. I could lay like this with you forever.”_ **

**_The warm body pressed flush against Harry’s back as a pale arm wrapped around Harry’s front and pulled him into a tight embrace. Harry could feel lips gently brushing the back of his neck and he gave an involuntary shiver of pleasure._ **

**_“Who says you can’t?” Harry answered, turning in the embrace so that they were face to face rather than back to front. His lover’s hand gently grazed up and down his arm in a lazy teasing caress._ **

**_“Oh I don’t know teachers, friends, family. I think we’d be missed if we just stayed in the room of requirement forever.”_ **

**_“Hmmm details details.” Harry sighed into Draco’s neck, nuzzling into the crook and enjoying the profusion of Veela pheromones concentrated there. “You smell amazing.” He added unnecessarily._ **

**_“So you’ve told me, numerous times.” Draco crooned pleasantly._ **

**_Draco raked his fingers through Harry’s wayward locks and sigh. “Whatever am I going to do with your hair?”_ **

**_“Keep playing with it.” Harry mumbled against Draco’s neck, which his was now raining gentle kisses on. “Feels good.”_ **

**_Draco chuckled but did as he was bid, gently massaging Harry’s scalp with his elongated fingernails. When Harry began sucking on his next his hand clamped down on the hair in surprise and he pulled Harry’s face off his next to look at him. Their heated gazes met for a long scorching moment before their lips crashed together and their formerly carefree caresses intensified to enthusiastic groping._ **

**_Harry scooted up the bed until their faces were level and their kiss was less awkwardly angled while Draco’s hands drove up the back of his shirt and scratched at his back._ **

**_Harry felt sharp waves of pleasure every time Draco’s nails chanced on his Veela mark, and if the increasing frequency with which that occurred was any indication, Draco seemed to take notice._ **

**_Their bodies rested a few inches apart with only their hands and lips touching each other. The lack on contact elsewhere seemed to intensify the sensations where they did touch._ **

**_Harry focused on the kiss, his own hands having ceased their groping in favor of holding Draco’s hips still. He reveled in the gentle probing of Draco’s tongue and the teasing nibbles on his lower lip. He explored Draco’s mouth in kind, mapping its nooks and crevices with his intrepid tongue._ **

**_Harry loved the taste and feel of Draco’s mouth. His tongue and cheeks felt like velvet and silk respectively and he tasted of the mint tea and chocolate biscuits they’d eaten earlier. Harry moaned into the kiss “Taste so good.” And was rewarded by Draco smiling against his lips._ **

**_Their kisses continued on in changing tides of intense snogging followed by periods of languid touching in which their lips lightly brush and their breathes intermingled sensually. Harry wasn’t sure how much time passed, but it felt like they kissed for hours._ **

**_Neither of them ever tried to take it further or to remove their clothing, or to increase the contact of their bodies. Instead they just lay in each others arms, rarely speaking yet somehow imparting the full depth of their affection to each other through the subtle touches and heated dance of their lips._ **

0~0~0

Sunday, 1/19/1997

When Harry woke up on Sunday morning he was confused. He had not cum in his pants. This was the first time he’d had a Veela dream and not climaxed. He knew should feel happy about that, but the dream had been so intimate. It was hard for Harry to say he preferred it. At least the sex dreams could be dismissed as vile acts he wanted no part of, or so he kept telling himself. He could spell away the mess they made take a cleansing shower and move on with his day.

He didn’t know how to handle this dream. It broke the mold that he had come to expect and had a prepared protocol for. Hours of kisses, gentle caresses, and whispered endearments, how the hell was he supposed to wash those away in the shower?

 _‘No,’_ Harry decided. _‘This was definitely worse. Is the dream adapting?’_ He wondered, horrified. _‘The bond has access to my thoughts, my feelings, what if it knows I was dismissing the other dreams. Is it just going to keep trying different tactics until I crack? Can it do that?’_ He wondered in increasing horror. He really needed to read that Veela mate book again.

He dug through his trunk and found the purple tome with swirly golden letters buried beneath the Weasley Christmas sweaters that he had outgrown but was too sentimental to throw out. Just where he’d left it after his first and last reading of the book nearly three weeks prior.

**Memoir of a Reluctant Veela Mate**

**By Edward Preston**

He flipped to the contents page and tried to remember where he had left off last time.

  **Contents **

**Part 1: The Meeting p.1**

**Part 2: The Following p. 20**

**Part 3: The Claiming p.48**

**Part 4: The Courting p. 62**

**Part 5: The Initial Bonding p. 95**

**Part 6: The Fall p.163**

**Part 7: The Aftermath p. 208**

Harry recalled the first four parts having been practically irrelevant, but the part name **The Initial Bonding** having provided some useful insights. He quickly scanned it and gathered that he had read most of it last time. He therefore chose to jump straight to **The Fall**. He tried to ignore the sinking he felt in his stomach when he read the ominous titles of parts 6 and 7. Whatever they included he was going to have to read eventually anyway so there was no use preemptively dreading them.

**Part 6: The Fall**

**It’s impossible it say which came first, my falling out of love with Elizabeth or my falling in love with Apollina. The two are too interrelated to distinguish from one another and I was oblivious to both for far longer than I ought to have been. Over the years I have sometimes wondered if Elizabeth and I could ever have been happy together. Were we merely driven apart by my bond with Apollina or were we unsuited for each other from the start? Was the unexpected bonding a blessing? Well at least the latter I can answer in the affirmative. In time Elizabeth found happiness with another. Likewise Apollina and I have enjoyed several decades of marital bliss, but that story will come later.**

**The bonding marked the beginning of the end of my relationship with Elizabeth. Up to that point I had been resilient to Apollina’s increasingly aggressive efforts to court me. I had proven myself immune to her flattery, her gifts, her exhibitions of her many talents, and her flirtations. All were traditional methods of displaying for me, not that I had any notion at the time displaying was. As I said earlier, I was completely oblivious to her Veela nature until the bonding. Her mother had raised her with the belief that allure and pheromones ought to only be used on a bonded mate and therefore, though able, she had never used those abilities on me prior to our bonding.**

**If she had than maybe I would have been less averse to the initial bonding. However much I may have loathed admitting it at the time her Veela powers were highly effective. The dreams forced me to imagine and to recognize the potential of a more intimate relationship with her than I would otherwise have allowed myself while my heart was still dedicated to Elizabeth. Her pheromones forced me to acknowledge and appreciate her beauty and my attraction to her. And her allure forced me to spend the time in her company that proved so pivotal in my coming to see her in a new light.**

**The coup de grâce of Veela powers was the inhibition the bond placed on my thoughts. My status as her claimed mate made me unable to think of anyone besides her in a romantic way without becoming violently ill. Even if I could have hidden my growing attraction to Apollina, which not being one well suited to deceit I’m not confident I could have, Elizabeth could not have failed to notice my sudden withdrawal from her affections. Kissing her pained me; even gazing on her lovingly caused me discomfort. It was not long before the bond trained my behavior towards Elizabeth into a platonic mold. Though even after I abandoned hope of ever being able to think of Elizabeth with true longing again it was still several months before our relationship deteriorated to an extent that we severed our engagement.**

**I was not alone in experiencing side effects from the bond. In some ways the changes Apollina underwent were even more pronounced than mine and they persisted even after we finally consummated our bond and became full and proper mates. For me the side effects primary affected my thoughts and emotions for Apollina the side effects mostly affected her personality and her behavior.**

**When she first marked me I would have characterized her as a childish, selfish, and immature girl. All qualities I could never have found attractive in a romantic partner. But just as the bond forced me to recognize her virtues it also forced her to see her flaws and adapt to suit my tastes. She became less juvenile in her monopolization of my attentions. She still sought me out, still contrived to dance and walk with me, but she achieved such ends through the delicate application of allure on me and through the goading assistance of my parents, who had by that time grown quite fond of her.**

**I have never received an explanation from my parents on why it was that they assisted Apollina’s suit of me. They had never given any indication that they disliked Elizabeth, to the contrary they had enthusiastically approved my engagement to her, but once the bond was forged they fell firmly in Apollina’s court. Perhaps it was just their respect for Veela and the honor of their son being chosen as a Veela’s mate. Or maybe they knew enough about Veela lure to know that once bonded I could never have been happy in a romantic relationship with someone other than her. Whatever their reasons were they avidly endorsed her bid for my hand and aided her pursuit of me. Their interference on Apollina’s behalf and the ways in which it strengthened her suit of my affections cannot be overstated. In them she found her most powerful allies.**

**As Elizabeth was still in school, being three years behind myself, our time together was limited to holidays and Hogsmeade weekends. During holidays I found myself unable to escape Apollina’s presence as my parents universally invited her family to stay in our home and share in our celebrations. Our families had immediately embraced the existence of our bond and seemed to view its consummation and our eventual marriage as foregone conclusions and formalities not worth equivocating over. Elizabeth’s parents, on the other hand, remained entirely in the dark regarding the initiated Veela bond, as did Elizabeth for that matter. Though undoubtedly they both felt the loss of my parents’ hospitality keenly.**

**With the help of my parents, Apollina always managed to integrate herself into my Hogsmeade dates with Elizabeth. She needed only to vocalize, in hearing range of my parents, her own desire to visit town and my parents clueing in immediately on her real intentions would invariably offer my services as her escort, stating that it was ‘unsafe and inappropriate’ for an unmarried young lady to venture across the country unattended. Any efforts on my part to shirk these enlistments were met with long winded lectures on family honor, filial piety, and what it means to be a gentleman. Eventually I accepted the futility of arguing with them and ceased to resist their obvious ploys to push Apollina and me together.**

**Elizabeth of course was not pleased with Apollina’s intrusions into the already virtually non-existent amount of alone time we shared. As her frustration with the situation grew she became both blatantly dubious of my attempt and obviously resentful at my failure in resisting my parents’ cajoling. I think she took their defecting support to Apollina as a personal affront against herself, which given that she didn’t know of the bond, she can hardly be blamed for. The end result was that our dates became heavy with thinly veiled tension and were rarely enjoyable for that reason.**

**Elizabeth was an observant girl and while I certainly attempted to disguise any admiration I felt toward Apollina I know that I was not wholly successful. During these dates Elizabeth became visibly and at times vocally jealous of Apollina. Her increasingly insecurities made her untrusting of the time I spent with her fair haired rival, and that negativity poisoned all of my interactions with Elizabeth. I never told her how much her lack of faith wounded me. However strong the temptations, I never betrayed Elizabeth. It was only after our engagement was dissolved that I fully accepted and embraced my bond with Apollina.**

**Throughout our courtship Elizabeth and I had always maintained a diligent and meaningful correspondence with one another. Even when we saw each other almost daily we enjoyed sending each other playful missives and as we grew older love letters. We continued this tradition despite the growing strain in our relationship. But as my feelings for her changed the words felt hollow to me. I struggled to make meaningful professions of love to her as any thoughts of her in a non-platonic context made me physically ill.**

**Elizabeth’s lack of trust in me made it impossible for me to confide in her. Which, considering that she had first and foremost been my best friend and confidant, to me felt like the greatest loss of all. But how could I speak to her of my days when they were often spent with Apollina? How could I vocalize my thoughts when they often revolved around her rival and the bond that she didn’t know existed? How could I discuss our relationship or our plans for the future when I was so full of doubt and confusion and hurt?**

**As a result my letters to her shortened and decreased in frequency while hers became increasingly desperate. At one point I was receiving several owls a day. They varied in nature; sometimes being brief effusive declarations of affection, other times taking on a probing possessive tone that sought hourly insights into my day, and sometimes shortly after Hogsmeade visits her subtlety would fail her completely and she would send me long winded rants about Apollina.**

**In a certain sense the two of them acted as each other’s foils. I had fallen in love with Elizabeth for her mind, her companionship, and her independence. I loved her determination to pursue her education and be my equal in every way. She had always exuded confidence and had never demonstrated possessive or jealous tendencies prior to Apollina’s intrusion into our life.**

**Conversely Apollina had been clingy and self-important from the start. She had demanded and felt unreasonably entitled to my attention and she forced her affections on me against my will. But when we were bonded everything started to change. It wasn’t instantaneous, but it was a slower more progressive alteration.**

**The alterations in Elizabeth’s behavior cannot be explained away as a side effect of the bond as she had no connection to the Veela magic. The personality flaws that she exhibited and the dramatic swing in her behavior can only have been the manifestation of insecurities that she had within her all along. I do however credit the bond for the remarkable turnaround in Apollina’s behavior.**

**After the memorable first fight when I soundly lectured her for bonding me against my will she seemed to reevaluate her approach to courting me. She became genteel and pleasantly engaging. She ceased her incessant clinging completely and limited physical contact between us to the occasions when we danced or I escorted her on walks. Though on those occasions she did indulge her possessive tendencies by running her fingers along the Veela marks on my forearm. Otherwise she behaved with respect toward my autonomy from her and the bond. Having recognized my displeasure, she ceased referring to me as her ‘mate’ or ‘mine’ and she remained civil to Elizabeth, even when Elizabeth’s behavior towards herself grew increasingly hostile.**

**Apollina surprised and impressed me most by never using her pheromones or her allure in front of Elizabeth. It was a constant concern of mine as I couldn’t bear the thought of that being the means through which Elizabeth learned of the bond. Whether Apollina detected this sentiment and restrained herself for that reason or whether she merely wished Elizabeth to think she was winning without the aid of magical intervention I do not know. At the time I did not presume to ask and this long into our marriage I fear she would be insulted by the accusation. Though she will undoubtedly read this and laugh at me for my reticence. Perhaps some future edition will include an addendum with her answers to my many questions of her sometimes bewildering behavior.**

Harry stopped here, though Edward’s explanation of his descent into loving Apollina spanned several more pages. Harry wasn’t really surprised. He’d known just by Snape’s lack of citing this as a success story that Edward was going to cave to the pressures of the bond, but there was a world of difference between knowing something was going to happen and reading the effusions of love first hand.

His theory that the dreams were adapting to appeal to him weren’t specifically confirmed by Edward’s recitation of his own experiences, but neither was it denied. The way Edward described the bond certainly seemed to suggest that it had some level of sentience that it was capable of identifying what a claimed mate found desirous and adapting to suit.

Harry had been surprised by that revelation. He had thought Malfoy immune to the bond. While Harry had been plagued by numerous mortifying side effects he hadn’t observed any perceptible change in Malfoy other than his improved looks and enhanced new and improved tools for humiliating Harry. _‘Is he suffering too?’_

Harry tried to reflect back on his interactions with Malfoy since the accidental bonding and he just couldn’t find any indication that Malfoy was harboring confused feelings of affection for him. In the hospital wing he had been a mocking prat. In Dumbledore’s office he had happily acclaimed the fact that Harry’s death wouldn’t affect him. During the multiple pheromone attacks he had seemed maliciously gleeful. True, since the unfortunate kissing incident the attacks had stopped, but Harry had attributed that to Malfoy not wanting to risk another accidental snog rather than any contrition on his part.

Harry tried to remember what Malfoy had been like when he caught Harry dreaming in the room of requirement. Harry had woken up, flushed and embarrassed as usual, his eyes had instinctively met Malfoy’s and he ran away before he had time to notice anything else. _‘What were his eyes like? Were they confused? Were they filled with disgust? Were they darkened with longing?’_ Harry tried to remember to nuances of the silver and he gave up the thought when he realized he was hoping for the latter.

_‘There’s no way Malfoy is suffering with this crap too. If he was he would have put up a bigger fuss when we were in Dumbledore’s office. He would be working with me to find a cure rather than just laughing at me.’_

Harry remembered Edward’s mention of Veela displaying and allowed himself a good laugh at the idea of Malfoy making a public spectacle of himself to draw his admiration. ‘ _That will never happen. I think his overdeveloped Malfoy pride would self-destruct him first.’_ Harry chuckled again at the thought.

He tucked the book back into the folds of his Weasley sweaters and closed his trunk. He’d read the book again, eventually. He had promised Dumbledore after all, but that was enough for today. Now, he was going to bury himself in his charms essay and try not to obsess over the various eyes of Draco Malfoy.

0~0~0

Saturday, 1/18/1997

After breakfast Draco found himself wandering back up to the room of requirement.

 _‘It’s not like Potter’s coming back here anytime soon.’_ He justified to himself, _‘Not that I’d want to see him. Chicken didn’t even go to breakfast. What is he going to starve himself now? Go on a hunger strike until the bond just magically dissolves? As if I’d ever be that lucky. No, his bushy haired mud-blood was shoveling more scones in her pouch than even the collective Weasley brood could eat, and that’s saying something. I wonder what Potter told her, surely not the truth. I wonder how the other two thirds of the golden trio would feel if they knew their boy wonder was LYING to them. Pfft.’_

Draco allowed himself a savage grin at the thought. _‘Too bad I can’t expose him without exposing myself as well.’_

He stopped walking when he came upon the door to the room of requirement. He hadn’t really given much thought to what he planned to do once he got here. Did he really want to return to the scene of HIS mortification? Because wanking to memories of your worst enemy could only be a humiliating moment of weakness.

 _‘That’s never happening again.’_ He promised himself, even as he paced three times and had the room open to the same scene. The bed sheets were still ruffled, the fireplace still roared, and the room still looked cozy and intimate. _‘I am unaffected.’_ He told himself as he crossed the threshold and took a seat on one of the comfy white leather chairs by the fire. It was toasty and the warmth brought back all the heated memories he had just reassured himself he was unaffected by.

Draco felt his face flush from the heat of the fire and the recollection of his actions here this morning. He could sit here and pretend all day but who was he really kidding? There had been several minutes that he could have left after he discovered the nature of Potter’s dream. Try as he might to bury it he remembered vividly the moment he decided to fuck all consequences and confused feelings because watching was worth it. And the wanking… he couldn’t really blame that on Potter. He was long gone by then. No, Draco needed to admit the truth.

 _‘Severus was right; this bloody bond is messing with my mind.’_ He buried his face in his hands and sighed. _‘Maybe I should keep working on that cabinet so the Dark Lord can kill him and I can be rid of this nonsense.’_ He thought bitterly. But he knew he wouldn’t. There was no going back to the Dark Lord now. What with the grim prediction Snape had made for his future service he didn’t even want to. And if he was honest with himself, he didn’t really want Potter dead.

Draco stayed in the room of requirement for the rest of the weekend, leaving only for meals, _‘which Potter cowardly continued to avoid’_ , and to collect the books on Veela his godfather had given him, _‘so I don’t go insane with boredom’_ , but Potter never returned.

0~0~0

Monday, 1/20/1997

Harry awoke groggy and semi-aroused. He felt down and was relieved to have not cum in his pajamas. Last night’s dream had started much the same as Saturday night’s had, with heated kisses and heavy petting. But, unlike the prior night things had escalated to Harry reaching into Malfoy’s pants and tossing him off. Which was still fairly tame compared to other dreams Harry had previously endured. Though he could have done without the taste, scent, and tactile memory of licking Malfoys spunk off his fingers. _‘Add feel of Malfoy’s cock and taste of Malfoy’s cum to the list of things I could have lived my whole life happily never knowing.’_ He thought to himself as he marched to the boy’s loo for his obligatory cold morning shower.

“How was last night?” A chipper Hermione asked him as soon as he made it down to the common room.

“Fine.” He muttered noncommittally.

“You didn’t dream?” She asked hopefully.

He shook his head. “No, I dreamed, just as bad as ever, but your charms held up and I didn’t wake anyone or mortify myself so I’m still calling it a win.”

Hermione’s face fell but she nodded in understanding and followed him out of the portrait hole.

“So are you ready to face Malfoy?” She probed.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” he answered grumpily, he’d been trying his damnedest not to think about it.

“It won’t be so bad. He really can’t get you in trouble. I mean he’s not likely to submit himself to veritaserum and even if he showed them a pensieve memory of you leaving the room of requirement in your pajamas there wouldn’t be any time stamp. It would all be circumstantial and I don’t think they’d punish you for being out past curfew unless the evidence was solid.”

“I’m not really worried about that Hermione. It was the crack of dawn. Which means Malfoy was wandering the halls when he wasn’t supposed to be either. I just wish he hadn’t seen me like that. The dreams… they’re personal and I was pretty upset. I don’t like my enemies seeing me weak like that. It exposes vulnerabilities. You know? And I just know he’s going to be a giant prat about it and I just have enough shit on my plate without having to deal with his smug knowing grins and arsy arseholeness.”

“Arsy arseholeness, really Harry? Maybe you she practice a better snooty retort before you face him.” She teased.

“Oh whatever, you go two weeks without sleep and we’ll see how witty you are. I’m still trying to catch back up to the point of full brain functionality.”

“You really do look better Harry. There are no bags under your eyes today. I’m sure Dumbledore will be pleased.”

“Yeah, well he better be if I have to suffer these nightmares.”

“Ah, come now you were already at the breaking point before he summoned. I’m sure you would have given up on the keep-awake even without his interference.”

“I could have held on a few days longer. I might have lost all my friends by biting their heads of but I could have made it.” He teased.

She smiled at his joke as they approached the door to the Great Hall.

“Now or never.” She said encouragingly.

“Wait? Never is an option?” He joked, dramatically halting in place. She gave him a playful shove on the back and just like that he was through the doors and face to face with Draco Malfoy.

000

Their eyes met for three intense wordless seconds before Draco dropped his gaze and ambled over to his usual seat at the Slytherin table.

He tried to look nonchalant as he delicately scooped scrambled eggs and thankfully not blackened toast onto his plate. That had been a horribly unsatisfying experiment. He felt Potter’s eyes burning a hole in his back, but he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of looking back. Not after Potter had cowered away in Gryffindor Tower all weekend.

 _‘No,’_ the more Draco had thought about it the more it pissed him off. _‘I’m in this bond too. I deserved to know that Potter was having dreams like that. Intimate and thanks to the bond probably anatomically accurate dreams about me, almost certainly stark naked. That’s practically an invasion of my privacy. I’m not some slag or bloody exhibitionist who just parades my nudity around. If Potter’s privy to private knowledge of my body than I damn well had a right to know, and it was bullocks that everyone, including my own godfather, had kept that from me.’_ He fumed.

 _‘Sure, it was a slight invasion of Potter’s privacy when I hovered over him and watched him sleep, but Potter doesn’t own the room of requirement. If you fall asleep in public it’s your own damn fault if people see you dreaming.’_ He rationalized.

_‘And to top it all off, when I finally learned the truth he just fled the scene like a criminal. He didn’t even bother to explain himself or apologize, or talk to me about what is happening in this bloody bond that we ARE BOTH FRIGGIN’ PART OF!’_

“Um Draco, are you okay?” Goyle asked, not bothering to swallow his mouthful of food completely.

“What?” Draco barked.

“Well, you look kinda angry, and you’re bending your fork.” He pointed his fat finger at Draco’s tortured utensil.

Draco looked down at his hand and saw that indeed his fork was bent.

“Cheap Hogwarts crap, Malfoy silverware would never have bent so easily.” He discarded the offending fork onto the table beside his still untouched breakfast.

“I think I’ve lost my appetite.” He announced primly. He rose from his seat, but before he could make a clean exit his godfather caught his eye from the Head table. He knew his little outburst hadn’t gone unnoticed. His godfather discretely absented himself from the other teachers and followed Draco out of the Great Hall.

“My office, NOW!” was all he said as he passed Draco in the entrance hall. Draco followed him in a sulky silence.

000

Severus waited until he reached his office to speak to his godson again. He opened the door and ushered Draco in only speaking when the door was sealed and warded once again.

“Are you going to be honest with me or am I going to have to legilimencize you?” He asked. Draco blanched.

“I’ll be honest.” He answered quickly.

“Good. So tell me what just happened in the Great Hall just now? I know your father taught you better than to wear your feelings on your sleeve. If even Gregory Goyle can read you than it’s safe to assume you’ve let your guard down.”

“Sorry, I’m not perfect. And neither is my father for that matter. I seem recall a certain public scuffle in a book store four years ago.”

“This isn’t about your father and those were different times Draco. The Dark Lord is back now. We can’t afford to look vulnerable, to show our true emotions on our faces. You can’t afford it. What if you lost you grasp in front of HIM. What if he was curious about why you were angry? Are you confident enough in your occulmency skills to bold faced lie to the Dark Lord Draco? Can you really afford to let him see what is in your mind?”

“No, Sir.” Draco answered sullenly.

“What is on your mind Draco? Rare is the occasion that I’ve seen your Malfoy mask crack so badly and whenever it does it always has to do with Potter. What did he do this time?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about the dreams?” Draco demanded, surprising Severus by turning the tables. “I came to you. I asked you what was wrong with Potter and you lied to me.”

“I did not lie to you. I merely refused to divulge Mr. Potter’s secrets.”

“Same difference.”

“The two are not remotely similar. A lie would have been if I’d made up some fictional symptom or if I had pretended I didn’t know. I did neither of those things. I merely honored the confidence Harry placed in me when he sought my counsel regarding the bond. I was being a professional, and frankly a decent human being. If you had come to my with a similar confidence would you have wanted me to tell him?”

“No. And don’t call him Harry. It’s weird.” Severus bit back a grin at his godson’s peevishness.

“So are you going to tell me what happened?”

“Well obviously I caught him dreaming about me. What do you bloody think happened?”

Severus shot Draco a warning glare for his language and his tone, but asked.

“And what happened then?”

“What do you mean? He ran off. End of story.”

“I find it difficult to believe that you would be this upset over learning that someone was dreaming about you.”

“The nature of the dreams was highly invasive. It’s an affront to my dignity!”

Severus managed to disguise his amusement of his godson's ridiculously exaggerated ire by tenting his fingers in front of his face.

“I see.” He said. Allowing the silence to linger, prodding Draco to fill the void. When Draco crossed his arms and stubbornly refused to rise to the bait he added.

“And you are feeling disturbed by this revelation.”

“Of course I’m bloody disturbed by it. Potter is moaning and squirming in bed at night, whispering filthy things for Merlin knows who to hear and then having the audacity to mention my name, repeatedly, thus associating me with his depravity. Who knows what kinds of horrid conclusions people could be drawing!” Draco fumed.

“And this fear of exposure is the only source of your disconcertion?” Severus asked. Draco blushed furiously. “I’ll take that as a no, then. Shall I assume that you have also been experiencing side effects from the bond?”

Draco nodded, averting his gaze.

“You don’t have to discuss this with me if you don’t wish to. Obviously this is a highly private matter and I would never demand such a confidence from you, but it would be very helpful for my research and frankly if you want me to be able to help you will need to be forthright with me.”

“I think the bond is changing me.” Draco finally mumbled. “I thought about what you said last time and I think you’re right. I don’t think a normal Draco would have used pheromones on Potter. The effect they had on him really shouldn’t have seemed desirable. But I did use them and worse I only stopped when I saw how much it was tormenting him. And isn’t that even more telling? I mean tormenting him was the whole point, or so I kept telling myself. Would the normal Draco Malfoy really have stopped doing something just because it bothered Potter? That’s an obvious no. And then that stupid dream. Just knowing that he’s doing that, that he’s thinking about us like that every night is driving me insane. I can’t even…” Draco hid his face in his hands, his palms muffling his next words. “Seeing him like that affected me.” What remained visible of Draco’s face beneath his hands looked sunburnt.

“It’s going to be okay, Draco.” Severus patted his godson’s shoulder.

Draco looked up aghast. “How can you even say that? You of all people. You know better. I read the books you gave me and you said yourself that there’s no getting out of this. We’re stuck like this. He’s going to keep having those dreams and I’m going to keep caring. And… it’s just going to get worse and worse until we break down… and…” Draco couldn’t continue the thought.

“You could do worse.”

Draco looked up again and their eyes met for several painfully long seconds. “So we’re really just giving up then.” Draco sounded defeated.

“I’ll keep researching…” Severus began but Draco silenced his empty reassurance with a decisive wave of his hand.

“I’m not a Hufflepuff; you don’t need to coddle me with cushioned truths and candied lies. If you of all people are telling me I could ‘do worse’ than Potter as a life mate, than clearly you’ve given up hope that there is an end to this. You’ve come to terms with this.” Draco shook his head in disbelief. “I need to go back to my room now to get my stuff. Classes will be starting soon.”

“Yes, of course. I have to get to my classroom as well.” Severus was grateful for the change in subject, but he knew he couldn’t leave things as they were. “You can always come and talk to me Draco. You are my favorite godson, after all.” He added as Draco reached the door that led out of his office.

Draco turned around and gave him a small smile at his obvious ploy to cheer him up. “I’m your only godson.”

“Same difference.”


	11. The Truth Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Harry nearly dies from a bond related symptom both boys are getting a talking to from their friends.

Author notes:

_Italicized words are character thoughts_

**_Italicized & boldfaced words are dream sequences or pensieve memories_ **

**Boldfaced words are in text reading materials (like books or letters)**

000 Represents a shift in character perspective

0~0~0 Represents a shift in scene (often followed by the date the new scene takes place if it is on a different day than the prior scene)

Chapter 11: The Truth Hurts

Thursday, 1/23/1997

Harry’s eyes couldn’t help drifting back to Malfoy. It had been four days since their eyes met in the Great Hall and still nothing; no taunts, no smirks, no looks of disgust, nothing. Malfoy’s behavior toward him was notable only in it lacking. Harry was being thoroughly ignored.

“Mr. Potter, if you would be so kind as to answer the question.” Snape’s voice sliced through his distraction. Harry glanced up at the board.

 _‘Shit! What was the question?’_ Harry looked up at the board and saw the incantation OPPUGNO written out with no explanation. He remembered that spell from when Hermione had shot a flock of conjured canaries at Ron in the fall. They hadn’t learned it yet at the time but Hermione was always ahead of the curb. He decided to take a shot in the dark and assume Snape was asking about that spell.

“Oppugno is a charm that allows that caster to control conjured objects and make them attack opponents. It is used both offensively to attack and defensively to cause distractions and divert attention.” Harry answered. Snape’s lips pursed and he contemplated Harry for a few intensely silent seconds.

“Very well Mr. Potter, I suppose you were listening. 5 points to Gryffindor.” Snape finally responded. Harry and all of the other Gryffindors’ mouths dropped in shock. No one could remember Snape EVER having given points to a Gryffindor in class much less to Harry. Snape seemed to pointedly ignore the shocked faces of his students and carried on with his lecture on diversionary offensive and defensive spells unperturbed.

“So, that was interesting.” Hermione said as she, Harry and Ron left class.

“Blimey Harry, what do you reckon got into Snape?” Ron asked.

“Well I don’t think he’s suddenly been imbued with a general love of Gryffindors, I mean he docked Seamus and Dean 10 points for passing notes in class so all in all we are still ending on a negative.” Harry pointed out.

“ONLY losing 5 points in Snape’s class is practically a gain for Gryffindor, Harry.”

“Maybe he’s just warming up to you.” Hermione suggested and Harry shot her an incredulous look. “No really, I mean if you think about it he has been uncharacteristically nice to you this term. Normally he wouldn’t have even given you the chance to answer. He would have just docked you 10 points for looking like you weren’t paying attention. If you think back on it he’s been really lenient with you ever since we got back. I mean when you were falling asleep in class most of the other teachers started lecturing you or taking points or keeping you after class to ask why you are so tired, but he’s basically left you alone.”

“I don’t know that I would categorize a lack of interest in the fact that I was displaying symptoms of acute exhaustion as evidence that he is warming up to me Hermione. That seems like a bit of a stretch. Thanks for memorizing the text books a year in advanced by the way. I never would have known that spell if I hadn’t seen you use it on Ron last fall.” He teased her, diverting the topic away from Snape’s strange behavior and causing her to blush.

“That’s what that sounded so familiar!” Ron exclaimed. Hermione and Harry both looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“You didn’t remember Hermione attacking you?” Harry sounded dubious.

Ron scratched his head and looked uncomfortable. “I was a bit distracted at the time.” He mumbled.

Harry didn’t think snogging Lavender Brown would be a sufficient distraction to make him not remember one of his best friends of over five years having attacked him a scant two months ago, but then again he’d never really been able to understand what Ron saw in that girl.

Just then Draco Malfoy and his gang of doting followers marched passed, keeping with his pattern from the past few days Malfoy didn’t acknowledge him, but several of the other Slytherins turned and scowled.

 _‘Now, Malfoy on the other hand,’_ he couldn’t stop himself from thinking _‘is most definitely a distraction.’_ Harry’s eyes followed the blond until he and his Slytherin crew disappeared around the next corner.

“Git.” Ron spat. Harry just nodded, not bothering to pay attention to what he was agreeing with.

0~0~0

Saturday, 1/25/1997

Harry’s back prickled painfully as he approached the quidditch pitch. Ron was complaining about Lavender, as per usual, and her continued insistence that he wear his ‘MY SWEETHEART’ engraved pendant that she had given him at Christmas.

“Doesn’t she get that blokes don’t wear shite like that? I mean if my brothers were here they’d laugh me out of the dorm if they even heard about it.” Ron whined.

Harry was mostly tuning him out, choosing to nod or grunt sympathetically at regular intervals rather than actually contribute his opinion. He was too distracted by his feelings of trepidation to worry about Ron’s love life. This would be their fifth quidditch practice since students returned from break. The first time he had managed to get out of flying by making a bogus excuse that Madame Pomfrey had told him to take it easy the first week after his ill-advised duel. That excuse had been met with extreme skepticism since as far as anyone of the team knew Harry hadn’t even been successfully hexed during that duel. But he was their captain so they let that excuse slide for the first practice.

For the second practice he had told everyone that he wanted to watch from the ground with his ominoculars so that he could, “see the whole picture” and formulate game plans and new flight strategies. This excuse had been much better received, but Harry knew he couldn’t just say the same thing over and over without causing suspicion.

The third practice he had told players that he wanted to strategize with each player one on one while the other 5 practiced together. He individually called players away from the practice and went over his observations and strategy ideas from the previous practice. This was actually very beneficial to the team as it allowed people to focus on individual improvement.

Harry hadn’t needed to come up with an excuse for the fourth practice. By that point he had gone nearly two weeks without sleep and looked so dead on his feet that the team seemed all too willing to let him sit out and watch practice from the sidelines. Harry was grateful for that, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was being a shitty captain. He hadn’t flown as a seeker in over a month.

Harry had no excuse for today. He didn’t plan to make one. Their first game of the year was in less than a month and if he was going to have to fly through the pain he figured it was better that he learned how to do that now rather than in the middle of a match. He wasn’t particularly looking forward to it.

“Ready to fly today mate?” Ron teasingly elbowed Harry out of his thoughts. Harry clenched his teeth and nodded. The rest of the team was already waiting on the pitch for them and there was nothing left, but to grin and bear it.

“Okay, everyone. You all know the moves I’ve been individually discussing with all of you and the overall team plays that I want us to try out together. So let’s get up in the air and put it all together.” Harry ordered. _‘Not my most inspiring speech.’_ He thought to himself as he mounted his own broom.

For the first half of practice Harry stayed low to the ground, as low as he could without attracting the notice of his team. But even with that restrain the pain was dizzying. _‘Why is the pitch so damn far from the castle?’_ He bemoaned. He tried to hide his pained grimace when he swooped close to other players so that they wouldn’t misconstrue his discomfort as displeasure in their performance, but he didn’t hide his feelings as well as he’d hoped.

“Oi Harry, I don’t know what your gripe is, but your face has everyone on edge. Why don’t you go practice with the snitch a bit and clear your head?”

Harry sighed and nodded. He flew down to the pitch and released the snitch, fumbling with the ball chest for as long as he could to delay the inevitable. _‘As long as I don’t pass out it’s okay.’_ He mentally chanted to himself. _‘I’ve been through worse pain before.’_

He remounted his broom and chased after the released snitch. For a few wonderful moments the exhilaration of the wind against his face and the excitement of the chase was all that he could feel. But when the snitch shimmied out of sight and he was forced to slow to a stop to search for it the pain redoubled and Harry almost lost the grip of his broom. He was a few hundred yards in the air and he could see black spots. His back felt like it was being branded with ice and it was hard for him to think of anything outside of those eight agonizing slashes.

As his vision darkened and he fell backwards to the ground his last fleeting thought was that perhaps he should have told Pomfrey about his Veela mark that first day.

000

“Mate?” Ron sounded worried.

“Harry can you hear us?” Hermione asked.

“Children if you can’t be quiet and let my patients rest I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“Sorry, we just saw his eyes flicker and we thought he might be waking up.”

“Mr. Potter, are you awake?”

Harry blinked. He could hear his friends arguing with Madame Pomfrey. His mouth felt dry and his head felt dizzy like he’d lost a lot of blood. But mercifully his scars didn’t ache anymore. ‘Of course not, Malfoy is in the castle.’ He thought bitterly. His anger that Malfoy had apparently managed to take quidditch from him as well as everything else was quickly replacing his dizziness. Harry ran his hands across his face and tried to sit up. A firm grip kept his shoulder pressed down onto the mattress.

“I’m fine really. Now that I’m back in the castle I’m fine.”

“Mr. Potter if Ms. Lovegood hadn’t been there looking for-”

“Grass pigmies.” Luna helpfully finished. Harry opened his eyes in surprise; he hadn’t noticed Luna’s voice among the others before.

“Yes, well if Ms. Lovegood hadn’t been so quick with her wand to cast a cushioning charm and slowing charm on you, you could have very well died. I’m afraid you can’t leave until I determine why it is you fell off your broom.”

“I know why I feel off my broom.” Harry answered sullenly.

“And why might that be?” Madame Pomfrey had her hands on her hips and looked cross like she knew he had been with holding symptoms from her. Harry looked at her meaningfully and she added. “Perhaps I ought to dismiss your visitors first, patient confidentiality and all that.”

“Surely Harry doesn’t mind us here. He doesn’t keep secrets from us.” Ron argued.

Harry held back a sigh. “Might as well let them stay. They are just going to make me tell them next time they have me alone anyway so might as well save me the effort of telling it twice.”

Madame Pomfrey gave him stern look that left him in no doubt that she thought this disclosure ill advised, but he pressed on.

“It is for me to determine how much my friends know.” Harry met Madame Pomfrey’s eyes as he said this and hoped that she understood his plea that she not contribute additional information beyond what he chose to share. He accepted her nod as a sign that she did and he continued.

“I was in a fight with Malfoy over break. He nearly died. This much is widely known around school. What neither Malfoy nor I have told anyone else; besides Madame Pomfrey, Snape, and Dumbledore; is why he survived. Malfoy used some kind of wild magic to siphon enough of my life force to save himself. He dug into my back and left some pretty ghastly scars.” Harry turned around and lifted his shirt at this point to show them the scars.

“None of this was intentional mind you. I didn’t mean to nearly kill him and he had no control over the instinctive survival mode he went into, it all just happened. But these scars are linked to Malfoy. Kind of like the scar on my forehead is linked to Voldemort. Only where the scar on my forehead hurts if Voldemort is close, the scars on my back hurt is Malfoy is far away. It turns out the quidditch pitch is too far from the castle for comfort. Most of the term I’ve been conducting practice from the ground, but I ran out of plausible excuses not to fly and today I took a chance. Clearly it didn’t pay off.” He finished glumly.

“Why did you not tell me of this sooner?” Madame Pomfrey asked. “I told you that you were to report any symptoms to me immediately.”

Harry shrugged. “It’s not that big of a deal on a day to day basis. I mean it’s uncomfortable when I’m on the seventh floor and he’s in the dungeons, but since that happens so often I’ve kind of just gotten use to a base level of pain. It’s only really a problem when one of us goes outside for quidditch and I didn’t want to tell you about that because I thought you would make me quit the team.” Harry finished defeated.

“Mr. Potter, if you had come to me we could have discussed your options. Surely, Mr. Malfoy would be willing to attend Gryffindor practices to save you pain. Did it ever occur to you to tell him about this?”

“Pfft, if Malfoy knew that he had the ability to cause me pain just by walking away from me he’d probably spend all of his free time skirting the edges of the forbidden forest. Please let’s not tell him. As it is Malfoy attends quidditch games, even if his team isn’t playing. It is a spectator sport. As long as he is there for the games I will be safe to fly. I just have to come up with a better excuse for my team for why it is I’m not practicing with them.”

“And what is it you intend to do this summer, Mr. Potter? Sleep in a tent on the outskirts of Malfoy Manor?”

Harry swallowed thickly, and coughed to clear his throat. “I was kinda banking on Snape to find a solution by then.” Harry admitted sheepishly.

“Really Mr. Potter.” Madame Pomfrey shook her head in exasperation. “Yes, Professor Snape is researching the topic, but I thought he and the Headmaster impressed upon the two of you that the connection that was forged between the two of you was unlikely to be reversible. It’s rather foolhardy for you to base your plans on the hope that in a span of six months, Professor Snape, someone with no prior expertise in this field mind you, will have developed a solution that no one else has ever been able to find.”

“Yes, well they also impressed upon me that it’s rather uncommon for people to try and as such I’m holding out hope that the solution hasn’t been found because no one has been looking for it.” Harry became aware at this point that his friends were observing this exchange. Ron looked confused, Hermione looked deep in thought, only Luna seemed truly unphased as though it all made perfect sense to her. “I’d appreciate it if you allow me to cling to my optimism.” He added as sharply as he thought he could get away with while talking to a staff member.

“Acceptance would be easier, Harry.”

“Yeah? Well walking up to Voldemort and letting him kill me once and for all would be easier too, but no one seems to be advocating I do that. This is my life; I’m not just going to…” Harry coughed, again remembering his audience. “I feel fine now, if it’s alright with you I’d like to return to my dorm.” Harry rose out of the bed before Madame Pomfrey could stop him this time and he stalked off towards the door with his shocked friends following in his wake.

“Harry, what was all that about?” Ron asked as soon as they were in the corridor.

Hermione was watching Harry with an almost dissectingly intense gaze and he just exploded.

“The two of you are my best mates but that doesn’t make you entitled to know every little detail of my life and my feelings. If I wanted to talk about this I would have talked about this by now so just this once can the two of you please PLEASE just leave it alone?” He pleaded. Ron’s face hardened.

“Fine, so sorry that I cared enough to wonder why my best mate would rather almost fall to his death of his broom than be honest with me. Enjoy your secrets.” Ron stormed away.

Harry turned to Hermione now.

“Are you pissed off at me now too?” He asked with much less edge than before.

Hermione just enveloped him in her arms and whispered. “I know that this is more than you’re letting on. I’ve noticed things. But I’m not going to press you to tell me anything that you don’t feel comfortable with. I’ll wait and you can talk to me whenever you feel ready. In the mean time I’ll do some research on my own. We’ll find some way to fix this.” She patted his back gingerly, making his Veela mark tingle at the foreign touch. Then she pulled away and started walking back to their dorm at a more sedate pace than Ron had. When Harry continued to stand in place she turned and said.

“Well, come on then, our history of magic papers aren’t going to write themselves and I need to finish mine tonight if I want to be able to finish brewing a certain potion tomorrow. So keep up!”

Harry smiled. Only Hermione would think to use History of Magic homework to cheer him up.

0~0~0

Luna remained in the hospital wing for a few minutes after Harry and his friends left. She knew that Madame Pomfrey couldn’t and wouldn’t reveal details about patients to other students. She also knew that she knew far more about the situation between the two boys than the medicinal matron did. But she was so conflicted. Where did the lines between being a good friend and being a good confidant lay? If you could only be one and not the other which was more important.

Luna couldn’t tell Harry about Draco’s feelings or his symptoms without betraying Draco. And there was no way that Harry would trust that Draco wouldn’t abuse the knowledge of the Veela mark if he didn’t know that Draco cared about him.

On the other hand he couldn’t tell Draco about the Veela mark and how it pained Harry without betraying the implicit confidence that Harry had just bestowed in her by allowing her to sit in on his conversation with Madame Pomfrey.

 _'Why do boys have to be so stupid?'_ Luna wondered. _'Was Harry reading up on Veela at all? Of course a Veela wouldn’t purposely inflect pain on their mate. A Veela’s protective instincts would never allow such a thing, even if they really did hate each other.'_ She shook her head in exasperation. _  
_

_'How could Harry not see that they didn’t really hate each other? It was so obvious how much Draco had changed. His wrackspurts were completely gone and even if you weren’t the sort to notice that kind of thing, the way that he looked at Harry as compared to the way that he used to, well it was hard to miss. And it wasn’t like Harry could have missed it; what with his constantly watching Draco’s every move.'_

“Maybe I am barmy.” Luna said out loud.

“What’s that dear?” Madame Pomfrey looked up in surprise, clearly not having notice Luna was still there.

“Either I can see things that no one else can or all of my friends are idiots, either way I must be mad.” She sighed as she strolled over to the hospital wing exit. “I think it’s time for another lemon tea intervention.”

Luna didn’t wait for Madame Pomfrey to respond. What could she say anyway? She, like everyone else, didn’t seem to see what was going on between the two boys.

Luna looked down at the farm animal wristwatch that her father had gotten her from a tourist shop on one of his expeditions when she was small. Each number on the watch face was an animal and it chimed an animal sound for each hour. The little hand was almost on the pig.

“A pig is pork, pork rhymes with fork, fork sounds like four. It’s almost 4 o’clock.” Luna was way past needing the unnecessarily long mnemonic devices her father had thought up to teach her how to tell time, but using them always seemed to calm her down and it was with a small smile on her face that she began her hunt for Draco.

“Where would I be if I was Draco and it was quarter to pig on a Saturday?” She bit her lip in thought. “Potions lab!”

0~0~0

Draco added the final ingredients to his potion. This commission had been just what the Healer ordered. Being able to lose himself in the art of potioning, being able to actually enjoy it again was something that he had been missing this year. All of those fruitless hours plotting a murder he didn’t want to commit. The months spent dreading the torture and likely death he faced should he fail.

He’d have to treat himself to something nice with this commission, something expensive enough that he normally would have asked for an extension on his allowance. He deserved it after the months of stress the Dark Lord had put him through. He’d make more money still too; this batch was easily big enough to two extra vials.

Not that he was going to tell his commissioned customer that. They’d pay for the ingredients and his time and not ask questions. But he’d sell the extra on the sly. Valentine’s Day was right around the corner, there would be a market for Amortentia.

As he finished the final series of stirs the surfaced took on a pearlescent sheen and the telltale spiral smoke rose from his cauldron. His stomach plummeted as the aroma reached his nose; salt, citrusy soap, broom polish... Harry.

“Damn it!” He slammed his fist against the table, careful not to tip the cauldron. Figures that Potter would even manage to ruin the satisfaction high he had just gotten from a potion well made. “I hate him!” Draco said out loud as he raked his fingers across his scalp, messing his usually pristine hair.

“No you don’t, Draco.” The Ravenclaw answered from the doorway. Her eyes glanced up at his ruffled hair. “You look like you could use a cup of tea. Why don’t you bottle your contraband and meet me up in the garden. I’ll get the lemons ready.”

She left without waiting for a response. He was mildly affronted by the presumption of it. She just expected him to follow. She just knew he would. She knew about his illegal potion brewing, of course she did, she knows everything. She called him Draco, a permission he still had not granted her. But damn it if he couldn’t use a cup of tea. So he filled his vials, cleaned his cauldron and followed her just like she knew he would.

When he got to the room of requirement she was already seated at the table from before and the tea was steeping.

“I brought biscuits this time.” She said by way of greeting. Draco wasn’t looking at the sweets though he was looking at the transformed room.

“It looks different this time.” He answered. She looked around the room as though that observation had eluded her.

“I suppose it does. I just told the room to make my mother’s garden. The garden looks different at different times of year. Since it is winter right now obviously the room isn’t reflecting its current state so whatever season it picks is arbitrary. If I had to guess though, this looks a bit like June to me.”

“My birthday is in June.” He said conversationally, _'Why let her be the only randomly tangential one?'_

“Well then Happy Birthday.” She held out the dessert plate and offered him a biscuit as he sat down.

“It’s not my birthday.”

“Maybe it is here. Who knows? Tea’s ready.” She chirped.

“Why are we here?” Draco finally asked when it became obvious that she was going to conduct the tea preparation in silence.

“We’re here because you are some combination of deaf, a wanker or an idiot. I haven’t decided which, but I’ve giving you the benefit of the doubt and assuming a mild case of all three.”

“Come again?” Draco was aghast, particular about the wanker bit; just how much does this girl know? But he dismissed that thought as soon as it came. Surely she just meant he was a jerk, surely…

“Hmm perhaps leaning deaf than...” Luna pursed her lips in thought. Raising her voice she said with exaggerated enunciation, “I TOLD YOU TO BE NICE TO HARRY. YOU DIDN’T LISTEN. TODAY HE ALMOST DIED. I MIGHT NOT BE THERE TO SAVE HIM NEXT TIME. STOP BOLLOCKSING THIS UP.”

Draco’s heart clenched. “Harry almost died?”

“Yes,” She looked relieved. “Rather than talk to you or Madame Pomfrey about symptoms he was experiencing he just tried to ignore them. The result was him falling off his broom from several hundred feet in the air. I’m not going to get into details because frankly I’m already uncomfortable sharing this much. But my desire for him to survive your mutual stubbornness slightly overrides my desire to keep secrets so I will say this much. The two of you need to talk. You need to be honest with each other about your symptoms so that you can both help each other. The two of you are making this so much harder than it has to be. You are both just existing, surviving. You could be thriving if you’d just take your heads out of your arses.”

“You’re not as airy as I’m used to you being. Is this the real you?”

“I can’t be Loony Lovegood all the time. Sometimes I’m just Luna. As Luna, as your friend I have just as much right to get frustrated and angry about people I care about almost falling to their deaths unnecessarily as anyone else does. I’ve already had to see people I care about die in front of me. I’d prefer not to have that happen again.”

Draco smiled in understanding. “I like you better like this; feisty, straightforward, willing to tell it like it is, so delightfully different from all of my Slytherin friends. You know, I think I’ll let you call me Draco.”

“I already call you Draco.” Luna pointed out.

“Yes, but now I’ll call you Luna back.”

“And you’ll talk to Harry?” She prodded.

“I’ll try to keep Potter from killing himself, yes. With him that’s clearly an uphill battle, but I’ll give it my Malfoy best effort and that’s no small thing.”

She raised her teacup in a cheering motion. “To new beginnings then?”

Draco mirrored her, “To new beginnings.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like the story please comment. I love comments! I also welcome corrections of typos since I want the story to be the best that it can be.
> 
> Chapter 12 will be late next week since my hard drive is having problems. I'm holding out hope that my data is recoverable, but if not I may miss a week's update if I have to buy a new hard drive and rewrite everything. Fingers crossed that's not the case since that would mean losing the outline for the remaining 28 chapters as well. :(


	12. New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys talk about the bond.

Author notes:

_Italicized words are character thoughts_

_**Italicized & boldfaced words are dream sequences or memories** _

**Boldfaced words are in text reading materials (like books or letters)**

000 Represents a shift in character perspective

0~0~0 Represents a shift in scene (often followed by the date the new scene takes place if it is on a different day than the prior scene)

 

Chapter 12: New Beginnings

Sunday, 1/26/1997

Harry awoke in his Gryffindor bed his heart racing and his cock painfully hard. He could still feel the ghosting touches of dream Malfoy’s fingers as they lathered him in increasingly intimate regions. The sound of his voice breaking in pleasure as Harry brought him off. The pleasurable pain he’d felt when Malfoy had bitten his shoulder as he came. Harry reached up as if expecting a real bruise to have materialized there.

Harry’s arousal wasn’t abating. He hadn’t cum since that unfortunate run in at the room of requirement and his frigid morning showers were simultaneously increasing in painfulness and decreasing in effectiveness. Yesterday he had remained under the icy torrent until his fingers pruned and he’d still maintained a semi-erection for most of the morning. _'Thank Merlin for wizard space enchanted pants.'_

“Oi, Seamus throw me that sock over there.” Dean yelled from across the room.

“Nice catch!” Seamus called, “If Harry doesn’t fix his flying problem maybe you can fill in as seeker.” He joked.

“Hey, shut yer mouth about things you don’t know anything about, Seamus. You weren’t there yesterday, it was no laughing matter.” Ron spat from his bed.

“Yeah? Well I heard he fell from his broom. I get that he is the quidditch captain and I mean no disrespect. He is a great seeker, when he manages to stay on his broom. But his seeking ability isn’t going to count for much if he doesn't fix whatever his problem is this time. How many times has he fallen off his broom now? At least three times immediately come to mind. This is a recurring problem. As quidditch captain he has a responsibility to the team to put our best chances for winning above his private desire to keep playing. I don’t need to know the details of what’s wrong with him this time to understand that much. Besides, Dean said he hasn’t been flying all term. Isn’t that a little suspicious to you?”

“Seamus,” Dean’s voice interjected, “Just leave it, I’m happy being chaser and even if Harry did stop flying Ginny would be seeker.”

“This whole conversation is pointless. Harry is not quitting quidditch. He was just having an off day. He will be fine and we’ll slaughter the Hufflepuffs in the next match. Just wait you see.”

 _‘Ugh, clearly my roommates are awake.’_ Harry inwardly sighed, trying not to feel hurt that Ron seemed to be the only one who didn’t think he should quit the team, but happy that at least that meant that Ron was over his tissy fit from yesterday.

 _‘So much for my usual plan of a discrete cold shower while everyone is still asleep._ ’Harry cursed himself for oversleeping. _'If I'd woken up an hour ago I wouldn't even have had that stupid dream and I wouldn't be in the bloody predicament.'_

Harry contemplated his options. He could wank himself in the privacy of his curtains, but that felt awkward knowing that his friends were up and about just feet away and might at any moment come to wake him. Not to mention that wanking would require thinking about Malfoy, a reality he still hadn’t quite reconciled himself to.

He could attempt another cold shower in the 6th year boys loo, but now that was swarming with his dorm mates and he’d have a fun time trying to hide his erection in an open air shower with a bunch of other boys his age who would undoubtedly misunderstand its source.

Plus he didn’t really feel like facing his roommates just yet. Not when they had just been not so subtly suggesting that he would remove himself for the team if he was a good captain. _‘Fuck that, I’ve had to give up enough for this bloody Veela curse.’_ Harry thought bitterly.

The only option that left was going somewhere else. Harry knew he was going to go back to the room of requirement. The residual embarrassment he would feel at returning to the scene of his shaming revelation to Malfoy would pale in comparison to the embarrassment he would feel being caught wanking or being hard in the boys’ showers by his roommates. The choice was easy when you put it in such clear cut terms. Harry grabbed his invisibility cloak which he kept under his bed pillow and slipped out of his four poster as discretely as he could.

As he descended down the stairs to the Gryffindor common room he reflected on the dream again and on the bond in general. His suspicion that the bond was sentient grew with each day. When he first started sleeping in his dorm with his roommates present he noticed that the dreams ceased to make him cum. He had theorized that maybe it was a possessive Veela thing that he was supposed to climax around other people in the same way that he couldn’t climax thinking about other people.

But he was beginning to think it was more devious than that. The nature of the dreams, the effusion of feelings, caresses, kisses and foreplay seemed intended to inspire more than lust. Waking up hard was a continual frustration as well. At least before he could look down on his messed pants in disgust and then move on with his day. Waking up unsated meant that he had to do something about it.

He was horny and all of the solutions involved Malfoy. Either he needed to fantasize about him and toss off, an unpalatable idea; he need to actually be intimate with him, a laughable idea; or he needed to go somewhere to dream in private and hope that the Veela dreams would show mercy on him and give him release. Harry knew his life had truly gone pear shaped if the wet dreams he had lamented just days before was now his favored option.

As Harry invisibly stepped out of the Fat Lady’s portrait he was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the warmth of his scars or the quiet pattering of following feet.

000

Draco had been waiting outside of the Gryffindor common room for nearly three hours. He was a patient man, but honestly this pushed the bounds. _‘It’s nearly ten, does Potter even plan to eat breakfast.’_ In vocal support of his displeasure Draco’s stomach growled angrily. He quieted his rebellious belly with a non-verbal silencio. Making noise would negate the effectiveness of his disillusionment charm and the last thing he needed was some nosy Gryffindork asking him why he was stalking their portrait hole. He didn’t have the kind of excuse he was willing to share.

He resisted the temptation to tap his foot as the minutes continued to pass by and more and more students who weren’t Potter stepped out of the portrait hole and passed Draco without a flicker of notice. He would get Potter alone and he would make Potter spill about what had happened on the broom yesterday and about all the other symptoms he was hiding. Draco was sick to death of being the only one left in the dark about the details of the bond and by Merlin he was going to make Potter talk today.

The portrait hole opened again, but this time no one appeared to exit. Or so it seemed until Draco caught a glimpse of a well-worn trainer. _‘Well speak of the devil.’_ Draco thought smugly as he followed his prey. His heightened Veela senses made following the sound of Potter’s graceless stomping trivially easy and Draco was only surprised when he found himself yet again in front of the room of requirement.

 _‘I’m going to have to time this perfectly.’_ He thought. _‘Even Potter won’t be stupid enough to leave the door vulnerable to my entry twice.’_

When the door opened Draco kept as close to Potter’s back as he thought he could without alerting his rival to his presence. He couldn’t say why he was bothering to conceal himself anymore. After all the whole point was to confront Potter, not spy on him, but Draco wanted to reveal himself on his own terms not because he was clumsy enough to be caught.

Draco held his breath and swept past Harry with a seekers speed and grace while the door clanged shut.

Draco prepared to dramatically and triumphantly remove his disillusionment charm but the finite caught in his throat as he took in his surroundings and realized that they were in the room from last time. The same violet curtained four poster, white leather couches, silver damask wall paper, and gigantic fireplace that Draco had lived in for two days after their previous encounter here. The same bed that Potter had dreamed of him on and that he had subsequently pleasured himself to thoughts of Potter on.

The same bed that Potter was crawling onto that very moment. Malfoy’s heart clenched. The visual was so unexpected that it overwhelmed him. He’d imagined Potter in that bed so many times since that day. He’d dreamt of him both while awake and asleep. Fantasizing about what the two of them might have been doing on that bed in Potter's vision and what dreams Potter might have had since. He'd wondered how dreams would compare to reality and then hated himself for allowing such thoughts.

 _‘It’s just the bond. This is all just a symptom of the bond. That’s why I’m here. This is why we need to talk. I need to know what symptoms he is having. Besides the obvious that is.’_ Draco looked up at Potter again. He was shifting back and forth on the bed as though he were having a hard time getting comfortable.

000

“Dammit.” Harry cursed out loud as he forced himself off the bed. Neither the unpleasant revelation that his roommates thought he should quit quidditch or the long walk to the room of requirement had made the slightest dent in his arousal and being back on this bed was having rather the opposite effect. All of the visions and sensations he’d had last time he was here were flooded back to him with such realism that he could almost swear he could hear Malfoy’s labored breathing and smell his vanilla chamomile scent.

“I’m going crazy.” Harry wished that he had just gone for the cold shower option. His roommates wouldn’t have thought that much of him having a boner in the morning. They were teenagers too. “Ugh, why did I bother coming here?” When he looked up he was surprised to see a new door had appeared in the wall. Curiousity pulled him into the new room and he found a lavish bathroom complete with a tub that could rival the prefect’s bathroom and an obsidian and glass shower that could easily fit ten people.

“Perfect.” He stripped his clothes of without ceremony and approached the shower. The water poured down from the ceiling like warm rain. Harry was tempted to just luxuriate in it, but a warm shower wasn’t going to help him with his problem. He cranked the knob as far as it would go and shuddered as his warmth was ripped from him in an icy torrent of freezing rain. His skin felt like it was being stabbed with tiny invisible blades and he ached all over.

He glanced down hopefully and was dismayed to find his erection resilient against the swift temperature change. It bore the cold as though warmed by the heat of its own need. Harry pressed his forehead against the shower wall and slammed his fists against it in frustration. Unable to bear the icy pain on his back any longer he turned the temperature back to the balmy summer rain it had started at.

Defeated, Harry reached for the soap and lathered his hand. He knew he’d have no trouble coming up with the requisite mental images. After all it had been less than an hour since he had woken with the sense of Drac- MALFOY’s fingers wrapped around him.

 _‘I can’t start thinking of him as Draco.’_ Harry chastised himself even as he began to stroke himself to visions of his former enemy warm and wet and with him. He remembered the kisses, the sensitive spot on his neck that he hadn’t known he had until dream Malfoy had sucked on it. The feel of Malfoy’s soapy fingers and the bite of his teeth against Harry’s heated skin as he moaned through his orgasm.

Harry came in long white strips that contrasted starkly against the obsidian backing of the shower. Harry’s whole body tingled.

“Eight days is too long.” Harry panted, leaning against the shower wall to keep from falling.

000

 _‘This isn’t happening again.’_ Draco’s mind screamed. _‘No, that is NOT how this is going down. He’s not going to flee and ignore me for a week. I need to leave. Now. Before he gets dressed or figures out I’m here.’_ Draco slipped silently out of the bathroom trying to ignore his body’s reaction to the erotic image of a nude, climaxed weakened Harry Potter bracing himself against a wall covered in his seed. _‘We can have this chat some other time. When we are less… indisposed.’_ He reasoned.

Draco turned the doorknob that led out to the corridor and nothing happened. _‘If the door is warded against opening for me… I’m stuck here. I can only leave when Potter does. If I can’t slip out behind him I could be trapped here forever.’_ He realized frantically. Was it worth the risk? Should he just show himself and be guaranteed the ability to exit. He needn’t let on that he knew about what happened in the bathroom just now. So long as he managed to compose himself that is.

 _‘Yes, I can do this. I WILL do this. I'll take this as an advantage. Potter is upset right now. The bond is obviously affecting him if he has to come to the room of requirement to wank.’_ Draco couldn't help at that thought. He felt unduly pleased that he wasn’t the only one feeling that compulsion. _‘He’s vulnerable right now. I can MAKE him talk to me.’_

Draco’s plotting was interrupted several minutes later when the man in question strode into the room and plopped unceremoniously on the white leather chair closest to the fire.

Draco allowed himself a few silent moments to admire the way the water saturation tamed Potter’s typically wild hair and then another few moments after that to compose himself as he pushed those counterproductive thoughts aside. _'Now is not the time to being thinking about what happened in the shower.'_ He chided himself.

When he felt certain that he had successfully battled down all vestiges of arousal he vanished his disillusionment charm with a silent finite and when even that failed to capture Potter’s notice he cleared his throat loudly.

The green eyes that bore into his soul the next moment and the surge of feeling their gaze roused in him left Draco wondering if maybe he was the vulnerable one at the moment.

000

“Malfoy.” Harry imbued the word with as much derision as he could muster.

“I’m not here to fight.” Malfoy raised his hands, immediately on the defensive. Though, Harry noted with surprise, unarmed. “I just want to talk. I heard… I heard that you fell off your broom yesterday.”

“And I’m sure you were very upset by that news.” Harry snorted. “I’m sure you'd like Slytherin’s chances for the cup if I were out of commission, but sadly I'll have to disappoint you. I'm perfectly fine and you should know that I’m anything but a quitter.”

Malfoy looked almost stricken by the accusation and Harry replayed his words in his minds wondering what it was he said that had managed to offend Malfoy enough to cause him to make that face. Malfoy's floundering mouth opened and closed without words.

“Oh get to the point, Malfoy. Why are you here? How did you even get in here? I specifically warded the rooms against your entry.”

Malfoy found his voice then. “I came in when you did. I was behind you in the seventh floor corridor. I followed you here.” He answered the first question and Harry paled at the implication.

 _‘He’s been here the whole time…’_ Harry’s brain wanted to shut down. _‘Will my mortifications never cease?’_ He wondered.

“Just have your laugh and sod off, Malfoy. I have better things to do than amuse you.” Harry rose to his feet and took a step towards the door. Malfoy jumped from his chair and intercepted him.

“Wait.” Malfoy’s voice seemed to plead. “We NEED to talk.”

Harry sighed impatiently. “There’s nothing for us to talk about.” He crossed his arms stubbornly but ceased attempting to leave.

“How can you say that? You almost died yesterday.”

“Fine, I’ll rephrase that. There’s nothing I’d like to talk to YOU about. Is that better?”

“No, no it’s not better. Dammit Potter, why are you so impossible? Can't you see I’m trying to be nice here. I was worried about you. You almost died yesterday, because of symptoms from our bond. We need to discuss this.”

Harry tensed in suspicion. “What makes you so sure that my fall is related to the Veela bond? Maybe I just lost my grip.”

Malfoy met his gaze scornfully. “You’re one of the best flyers Hogwarts has seen this century. You wouldn’t just fall off your broom for no reason. Since there were no rogue dementors or defense against the darks arts teachers around it was easy enough for me to extrapolate that the bond was at fault. Now tell me what happened so that we can make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Did you just compliment me?” Harry smirked.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Only you would fish for compliments in the middle of a conversation about survival Potter, but yes I remarked favorably on your flying ability. Let’s try not make a big deal of it.”

“So if I'm one of the best fliers in this century does that mean you're admitting that I’m a better flyer than you?” Harry teased, risking retaliatory mocking as he became increasingly optimistic that Malfoy hadn't seen him in the shower. _'Surely if he'd seen me he would have thrown that in my face already. That's the sort of low blow that he would use to win a confrontation like this.'_ Harry thought reassuringly. _  
_

“I’ve managed not to fall off my broom since the bond was initiated so take that for what you will.” Malfoy retorted and Harry's amusement faded as his face hardened back into its previous hostility.

“Dammit.” Malfoy pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. I swear I’m not here to antagonize you. You’re just so...” He waved his hand “mockable, but I will try to contain myself if you will. I haven’t fallen off my broom because clearly you and I are experiencing different symptoms. I think we would both benefit from laying our cards on the table and seeing what we can make of it.”

“Why would I trust you with the details of what I’m suffering when I don’t even talk to my closest friends about it?” Harry asked.

“Because like it or not we’re in this together.” Malfoy answered, pausing for a moment as he seemed to hesitate over his next words. “Also, in the interest of full disclosure and as a show of good faith I should tell you that it is looking less and less likely that this bond is going to be dissolvable. Snape’s too nice to just say that to me out straight and he'd never throw in the towel if there were even the slightest chance for success,” Harry snorted at the description of Snape as nice, but Malfoy pressed on as though he didn’t notice. “but I know my godfather well enough to read between the lines. He no longer has hope. He doesn’t actually believe that we’ll be able to break this he's just continuing his research out of a sense of duty to me because he promised. While that is good of him, you and I need to prepare for reality. If you and I are going to be permanently stuck together in this pseudo bond we are going to have to find a way to live within the restrictions and symptoms of this Veela magic without going crazy or falling off our brooms to our deaths. I think that the first step to doing that is being honest with each other. We can't fight against this effectively if we are always at each others throats. Fighting is counterproductive and frankly may very well make things worse. These bonds are weird like that.”

By the end of Malfoy’s speech all of the blood had drained from Harry's face. He slumped back into the chair by the fire and stared despondently into the flames.

000

“Can we please talk about this?” Draco probed again after Harry had remained silent for several minutes. He didn’t bother to mentally correct himself when he realized he was thinking of him as Harry, if they were going to try being friendly with each other than thinking of each other with given names was probably a step in the right direction. “It doesn’t have to be terrible.” Draco added, hating the pleading tone that was creeping into his voice, but pleased that it at last managed to rouse a response from Harry whose head had shot up to look at him.

“How can you say that?" Harry looked aghast. "What about being forever bonded to you could be described as anything but terrible?”

“Okay, now you’re just being rude.” Draco snipped back. Tired of conducting this conversation from across the room Draco stalked over to the matching arm chair directly across from Harry and sat down.

“I'm not saying we have to be traditional Veela mates or heaven forbid lovers, I’m just saying we don’t have to be enemies. We could help each other. You could tell me why you fell off the broom. I can promise not to use the pheromones against you again. You’ll notice I haven’t done it again since that day in charms. That lecture you gave me, it got through. You made me realize that I've been shitty to you over the years, and thanks to the bond I actually feel contrite about it. Yes, believe it or not Draco Malfoy is capable of caring. See that’s me sharing one of my symptoms with you. Now it's your turn.”

Draco's admission invoked an interesting mix of surprise and amusement across Harry's face.

“So what? Now that you know we're stuck together you want to be friends or something?” Harry asked.

“Not exactly, I think it would be dangerous for both of us if we publicly acknowledged each other as friends. No, what I’m proposing is that we stop fighting each other, that we help each other combat averse symptoms when we can, that we be honest with each other about the bond, and that for the time being we maintain a façade of animosity in public.”

“If we’re just going to pretend fight anyway why not just really fight and save ourselves the effort of pretense?”

“Because fighting you hurts me, okay? I felt really bad after that day in charms and I’ve been on edge since the last time we were here.” Harry flushed at the first reference to the wet dream incident.

“Could have fooled me. You’ve been ignoring me ever since we were last here. Why the sudden desire to get chummy now?” Harry asked.

Draco took a deep breath and prayed for patience. _‘You promised Luna you would give this your best effort.’_ He reminded himself.

“My sudden desire to ‘get chummy’ stems from my epiphany that ignoring you makes you fall off brooms to your death. Are you an idiot or something? This isn’t a choice Potter. We either get along or this bond is going to destroy us. A truce with you is a matter of self-preservation. Merlin, are you always this suspicious when people offer you kindness? Don’t worry, I haven’t been infected by a sudden wave of good will towards Gryffindors in general, I’m not under an Imperius curse, and I’m not planning on using you as some stepping stone to the top. If anything you’ve ruined any future ambitions I may have had. Do you have any idea what the Dark Lord would do to me if it came out that I was allied with you? That my soul is bonded to yours, even incompletely? What he can do to my family who he has continual access to? Never the less I'm offering to help you. I'm trying to make this better. You have everything to gain by a friendship with me and I have everything to lose. Yet here I am, humbling myself, AGAIN, by offering you my hand in friendship. Are you really going to reject it a second time even when you know that you could die if we don’t cooperate with each other about this bond?”

Harry’s shoulders slumped. “Fine, what would this alliance entail?”

Draco smiled at his victory. “Well first off I’d like you to tell me the truth about what happened to you on your broom yesterday.”

Harry sighed but acquiesced. “My scars, the ones you gave me when you initiated the bond, well they're called Veela marks and they react to you. Specifically, they react to your proximity to me. When I’m away from you they grow cold. When I’m far away from you they ache painfully. When I’m really far away from you they hurt so badly that apparently I pass out. Yesterday the quidditch pitch just happened to be really far away from you.” Harry finished without once meeting Draco’s eyes.

“How is it that we are only discovering this now? Was yesterday the first time you passed out?" Draco asked. Harry nodded. "That’s strange. It's the middle of winter I’m always in the castle unless I'm at my own practice so the relative distance to the pitch shouldn’t have been that different yesterday compared to the other times you've practiced since we bonded.”

“Yesterday was the first time I’ve flown during quidditch practice since the bond." Harry admitted. "The pain I feel at the pitch is…substantial. Normally I make up an excuse to conduct practice from the ground, but we have a game coming up next month against Hufflepuff and my team would think it was weird if I never flew." His voiced trailed off. "I should have listened to my body.  Me nearly falling to my death was the result of me ignoring my better instincts.” Harry conceded.

“No, you nearly falling to your death was the result of you keeping secrets from me. I’m not a monster you know. If you had come to me and told me about your scars and how they were affecting you than I could have gone outside during your practices. I could have stayed close enough to the pitch that the bond wouldn't hurt you. You should have asked me.”

“Oh yes, I can just imagine how that conversation would have gone down. 'Oi Malfoy, I know that we’ve utterly and completely loathed each other for the last six years and that so far you have used every insight into our Veela bond to invent new ways to torment and publicly humiliate me, but what the hey in for a knut in for a galleon as they say. I figured since you already know so much already I might as well just let you know all of my vulnerabilities. I'm sure you wouldn't use them against me. I mean our past experiences with one another in no way suggest that you're the sort who would use the knowledge that you possess an innate ability to cause me pain at will maliciously. Nope, and there's absolutely no past indictators that you might use underhanded means to sabotage me to win at quidditch either.' Oh yes, it's definitely my fault for not trusting you, not your fault for not being trustworthy.”

“If you feel that strongly about keeping it a secret from me than why are you telling me now? It's clear from the derision dripping from your voice that your opinion of my character hasn't undergone a sudden revolution in my favor.” Draco's eyes darkened in anger.

“Yeah, well I don’t have much of a choice now do I? As you have repeatedly pointed out I almost died yesterday. While quitting quidditch might have allowed me to avoid this conversation for a little while if what you said about Snape is true, if this bond really is permanent, than it’s not like I could have avoided revealing this forever. This proximity requirement has some poses some very real problems. Easter holidays are in two months, if the level of pain I felt out on the pitch is any indicator than you going home to Malfoy Manor would probably kill me.”

“Then I’ll stay at Hogwarts.” Draco promised. "See, that wasn't so hard. We're coming up with solutions together already."

“Fine, but that will still only carry us until summer. Staying at Hogwarts over the summer isn't an option. Especially not if you plan to keep our bond a secret from your family. I was really resting all my hopes on Snape finding a cure by then.”

“Can you please stop referring to the Veela bond like it's a curse or a disease. It's not something that needs a cure.”

“Oh please not you too. Honestly, I don’t think I can bear it if even you want to give into this.”

“You wish. No, I'm not saying I want to 'give into this' I'm just saying I resent you treating it like some contagious infection I've afflicted onto you. I am a Veela now after all. Even if you aren't really my first choice for a mate I still can't help but feel offended when you refer to the bond as though it is something revolting. But now I'm curious. Just who have you been talking to who has told you that you should just give in?” Draco was suddenly frightened by the realization that his secret wasn't as contained as be had believed. _'How many people has Potter told about this? Does he not see the need for discretion?'_

“Hmm let me see, Pomfrey, Dumbledore, Snape. Sure they don’t come right out and say 'just consummate and get it over with', but it’s obvious that they think resistance is futile and the book Snape gave me about coerced Veela mates when I went to talk to him hasn't really painted an optimistic picture on the success of fighting the bond either. I'm beginning to believe that what we have really is unprecedented. It seems that there has really never been a bond that neither party wanted before. The Veela magic, while sentient enough to craft itself to maximize its own effectiveness at tormenting me, doesn't seem to be smart enough to realize that we don't want this. Maybe that's the point, maybe its meant to draw unwilling mates together. That makes more sense than any other explanation I could think of. It’s so messed up. We don't want this and it's just going to keep prodding us for the rest of our lives.” Harry buried his face in his hands.

“I haven’t even told my best friends the truth about what happened between us after our duel. What can I say to them? That I’m soul bonded to Draco Malfoy, that I'll never be able to have a romantic relationship for the rest of my life, that I’m slowly but surely going insane… Hermione is worried enough about me already. Even when she just thought I was having nightmares about my dead godfather it practically brought her to tears. I can't burden her with the truth.” Harry finished glumly.

Harry looked so distraught that Draco felt a visceral urge to hold and sooth away his sadness. _'That's the Veela magic talking. Harry would only be more upset if you reached out to him with Veela bond coerced compassion.'_ Draco admonished himself as he fought the compulsion to reach out and pull Harry into his comforting embrace.

“I’m sorry and I know that this isn't much of a consolation, but I want you to know that I had no idea that I could be transformed into a Veela like that and if I had any control of the situation I certainly wouldn’t have bonded you on purpose.”

Harry let Draco's apology soak in before responding. “Thanks, hearing that given the choice you would have chosen death over enslaving me is oddly reassuring. I don't mean to blame you for all this. It’s my fault for almost killing you. I shouldn’t have cast a curse that I didn’t know the effect of. This bond is my punishment for using Dark magic. Cause and effect. A divine retribution for misdeeds.  Muggles call it karma.” Harry gave a bitter half laugh.

“Karma."  Draco moved the word around his mouth as though tasting it. "Muggles and their silly superstitions. But if it is real, if this bond really is our comeuppance for our crimes against each other than maybe if we suffer the punishment together it doesn’t have to be as bad. I promise that going forward I won’t use my powers against you and I’ll start watching the Gryffindor practices and games so you can fly without having to fall to your death. So do you think we can be friends?” Draco extended his hand out, trying vainly to hide his fear of rejection, but Harry didn’t leave him hanging this time. The Gryffindor met him halfway and their hands clasped tightly.

“Thank you,” Harry answered. Draco’s face flickered in confusion. “for not being a total prat about everything that has happened, everything you've seen. I’m glad I wasn’t wrong about you.”

Draco remembered the lecture in the charms classroom where Harry had lambasted him for having failed to be the better person Harry had believed him to be and flushed at the compliment of Harry's renewed faith in him. Knowing that Harry didn't think he was a monster, incapable of compassion or feeling, filled him with a warmth an inexplicable warmth in his chest. It was several minutes before either boy thought to retract their hands.


	13. Love's Labors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys embark on their fledgling friendship and Valentine's Day festivities loom ominously in their futures.

Author notes:

_Italicized words are character thoughts_

_**Italicized & boldfaced words are dream sequences or memories** _

**Boldfaced words are in text reading materials (like books or letters)**

000 Represents a shift in character perspective

0~0~0 Represents a shift in scene (often followed by the date the new scene takes place if it is on a different day than the prior scene)

Chapter 13: Love’s Labors

Sunday, 1/26/1997

 _‘I’m friends with Draco Malfoy. What a concept.’_ Harry thought, his chest clenching as he noted the unabashed warmth shining from his new friend’s eyes. Harry felt his palm growing sweaty and looked down to find, to his embarrassment, that they were still holding hands. He cleared his throat and tried to extract his hand from Malfoy’s firm grip. Malfoy seemed almost reluctant to let him go. Harry self-consciously wiped his sweaty palm across the thigh of his jeans.

“I should really get going.” Harry began awkwardly. “My friends will wonder where I am. I didn’t really tell anyone where I was going.” Harry blushed against his will, cleared his throat and added, “I hadn’t planned on this being such a prolonged visit to the room of requirement.”

“Just came for a quick wank?” Malfoy teased.

 _‘Okay, so he DEFINITELY saw me in the shower.’_ Harry lamented.

Harry’s fists clenched and he forced out through his embarrassment. “I came for a shower.”

“Do the Gryffindor dormitories not have showers? I realize that Gryffindor can’t boast the same monetary endowments that Slytherin house does, but I would have thought that basic bathroom facilities would come standard issue. I suppose a lack of showers would explain some of the smellier students though.” Draco mused. “I’m rather impressed the rest of you lot are as clean as you are. Shall I assume that you have no beds either? I noticed that you gravitated to the bed first when you came into the room.” Malfoy cocked his head to the side and stared at him meaningfully.

 _‘Damn it. I forgot I went to the bed first.’_ Harry cursed himself for his forgetfulness. _‘Why am I even bothering to lie about this anyway? He obviously SAW me wanking or else we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. Trying to pretend it didn’t happen is a waste of time and clearly my ridiculous denials are just amusing him further.’_

“Fine, you win. I came here for some privacy.”

“To wank.” Malfoy interjected.

“To think.” Harry corrected. “I just got a little carried away. Happy?” Harry crossed his arms and glared at Malfoy, as if daring him to mock him further.

“Clearly not as happy as you were. Dare I ask what you were thinking about that got you so carried away?” Harry opened his mouth to retort but Malfoy raised his hand to placate him. “I’m just ribbing you. Calm down Potter. Surely, you’ve joked with friends before. I understand is a common convention among teenage boys to tease one another. You don’t have to get so flustered. Though I’ll admit I’m amused by how easy it is to make you blush, I’m not willing to jeopardize this fledgling friendship by affronting you unnecessarily. As a conciliatory gesture I’ll confess that I have similarly used the room of requirement. Does that ease your bruised pride?”

Harry firmly filed the unsolicited mental image that admission evoked in his ever growing ‘things I don’t want to think about while I’m in a room with Malfoy’ folder. _‘The last thing I need is to get an erection while I’m having a conversation with Malfoy about our new platonic friendship. Merlin, even if my enchanted pants hide it I think I’d die of embarrassment.’_ He thanked his lucky stars that during his most recent wank session he had avoided calling out Draco’s name at the end. Harry didn’t think he would be able face the blond again if he’d seen that. Knowing that he’d seen the wet dream was bad enough.

“I’m not sure how things are down in Slytherin, but no I can’t say that I make a habit of talking to my friends about tossing off. Frankly I’m surprised you’re so cavalier about it. I would have thought discussing such intimate acts would violate your priggish pure-blood principles.”

“Oh, pure-bloods may be proper in public, but that doesn’t mean they are prudes in private. I think you’ll find that there is a world of difference between the public persona pure-bloods project versus their actual personalities. You’ll learn that as you get to know me.”

“Who says I want to?” Harry countered.

“Want to what?” Malfoy asked.

“Get to know you. Aren’t you being a tad presumptuous?” Harry asked suddenly back on the defensive.

Malfoy frowned. “You agreed that we would be friends, that we would be honest with each other, and that we would work on the bond together.” Malfoy reminded him sternly. Though Harry thought he detected a trace of hurt in his tone.

Harry pinched his nose and concentrated, trying to compose his thoughts into something resembling civility. _‘He’s trying to be nice.”_ Harry reminded himself. _“I’ve got to try harder. I’m not going to lose to a bloody Slytherin in a contest of niceness. This whole getting along with Malfoy thing is going to be impossible if we can’t even make it through one conversation without fighting.’_ Harry schooled his features and tried to look contrite.

“Sorry, this is all just… fast and weird. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and this past month is all going to have been nothing but a strange and unsettling dream. But, you’re right I’ve accepted your olive branch and all that it entails. It’s just going to take a little while before I can be comfortable around you. You know, like a real friend. I guess what I’m saying is it’s a bit soon for me to be comfortable with wank jokes. Scratch that; I will never be comfortable with wank jokes full stop.”

Malfoy smiled. “Noted, no wank jokes. Any other blacklisted topics that I should be aware of?” Malfoy eyes twinkled in poorly concealed amusement.

“The dreams, I don’t want to talk about them, ever. I don’t want you to ask about them.”

Malfoy’s face hardened. “I’m not going to promise not to ask you about symptoms resulting from the bond. That is, after all, the whole point of this friendship.”

“You asked me what my black listed topics were and that’s one of them. It’s not like that’s a symptom you could have helped me with anyway. Besides, after tomorrow I’ll have dreamless sleep draught so it’s a non-issue anyway.”

Malfoy pursed his lips, but didn’t argue. A show of restraint Harry appreciated. He had half expected yet another lecture on the dangers of prolonged dreamless sleep draught use and he so wasn’t in the mood.

“I really should get going.” Harry said again, remembering his earlier assertion that his friends would be worried about his absence. “Breakfast is probably almost over by now.”

“Breakfast was practically over by the time you left your dorm so don’t use that as an excuse.”

“All the more reason I should return. My friends will wonder why I’ve missed breakfast.”

“Fine go, but don’t think you’re getting out of this conversation. We’ve barely scratched the surface of the how this bond is affecting the two of us and you can’t expect me to help you if I don’t even know what’s ailing you.”

“I appreciate the concern Malfoy, but honestly just having you watch my quidditch practice is more than I ever hoped for.” Harry rose out of his chair before Malfoy could stop him again, but Malfoy made no move to halt him this time. He just followed silently in Harry's wake as he crossed the room and exited into the seventh floor corridor. _‘He’s probably worried he’ll be trapped inside without me.’_ Harry thought to himself, mildly amused by how closely Malfoy was riding his back.

Back out in the hall Harry spared Malfoy one last parting glance and added, “I do appreciate it, you know. The fact that you’re willing to help me. So thanks.” Suddenly embarrassed by both their close proximity and their strange new civility toward each other Harry scurried off without waiting for a response.

000

Draco stayed in place as Harry hastened down the long corridor and disappeared around the first available corner. Only then did he let himself release the sigh the he had been holding in. His back collapsed against the wall of the hallway and he took deep calming breaths. His heart raced.

 _‘That went better than I could have hoped.’_ He closed his eyes and smiled in relief. He hadn’t allowed himself to admit just how strongly he had feared a second rejection until the moment Harry had clasped his hand back. The profound wave of relief he had felt. The joy and warmth at knowing that he was accepted, that Harry didn’t think he was some inhuman monster. _‘Inhuman.’_ His mind flinched at the word. _‘I’m not human anymore am I? Veela aren’t human.’_ He dismissed the useless thought as it was both pointless to brood on and a bit of a buzz kill. _‘No, nothing is going to ruin this moment. I offered Potter my friendship and he accepted.’_ He wondered for a moment when his happiness had started being defined by Harry’s notice of him, but he already knew the answer. _‘It always has.’_

Draco pushed himself off the wall, with his self-satisfied smile intact. “Now I’m going to find myself some celebratory breakfast.”

0~0~0

Monday, 1/27/1997

Hermione clenched the bottle in her hand tightly. She wasn’t going to risk dropping two weeks’ worth of work. Not when her friend needed this. Not when this was the only way she could help him. After countless hours of complex brewing it was finally done. A two months’ supply of dreamless sleep draught.

She’d had to consult with Slughorn about the recipe. Doubling potions recipes was tricky enough, but quadrupling one could dramatically change the ingredients involved and she wasn’t going to risk giving her friend a botched potion just because she was too proud to check her work.

Nor did she want to have to be in a constant loop of brewing the potion. Two weeks to brew a two weeks supply would mean that she would never have a reprieve from brewing, not if Harry was going to take the potion every night. Something she still devoutly wished she could convince him against doing.

Her worries were unfounded however. Slughorn had been impressed with her recipe adaptation and when she had brought him a small sample of the finished potion he had declared it perfectly brewed. His curiosity as to why she needed such a large quantity of dreamless sleep draught had been assuaged by her flimsy claim that she was contemplating a career in healing and wanted to test whether her potion brewing ability was up to the challenge of bulk brewing. The assertion earned her a complacent smile and a promise for his reference to any number of well-known Healers who he had personally tutored and who would happily take on any apprentice who boasted his endorsement. Hermione tried to appear gratified by his effusion. In truth she was pleased by the compliment to her brewing ability, but the man’s over inflated sense of self-importance was so tiring. She wondered how he managed to get in and out of rooms with such a large head.

Hermione was relieved when she got back to the dorm and found that Harry was alone in the 6th year boys’ room. Given that it was only an hour to curfew she had thought she’d have to come up with some excuse to get Harry alone. She doubted he wanted his roommates to know about his nightmares.

“It’s done.” She said simply when his eyes met her across the room curiously. She pulled the sizable bottle from where she had concealed it in her robes as she passed through the common room. “Two months’ worth, I had Slughorn test it and everything. It’s perfect.” A look of concentrated relief flashed across Harry's face and any reservations she still had about giving her friend an illegal quantity of a control substance disappeared.

“Thank you.” Harry crossed the room and pulled Hermione into a tight hug. “You can’t know what this means to me Hermione. You just can’t. What would I ever do without you?”

“Dream?” She replied cheekily.

Harry sighed and she worried that perhaps that joke was too soon. “Not anymore.” He finally replied. The mirth had left his voice, but he didn’t sound angry, just resolved. As though some unnamed evil crested the horizon and he had made peace with his doom.

“I wish you would tell me what is wrong, Harry. I know I promised not to ask, but I just hate seeing you suffer in silence like this. You don’t have to fight everything alone you know.”

“I’m not alone.” Harry replied, though Hermione thought, he didn’t sound as happy about that statement as he ought to have been.

Hermione knew better than to press the issue however. If pushed Harry would just back up into a corner and close up even worse. That’s how it always was when she tried to talk to him about his muggle relatives. The time she had tried to give him a pamphlet on the signs of child abuse he had clammed up so tightly that he barely spoke to anyone for two weeks. No, she had long since learned her lesson. She would wait and he would talk to her about it when he was ready.

“When are you and Ron going to make up?” She asked instead. Harry actually laughed at the abrupt change in topic. Cracking her a half smile Harry replied,

“When are YOU and Ron going to make up?” He returned.

“When he stops being a prat.” She replied, looking at her nails like she didn’t much care either way. Harry bit back a smile at her failed display of indifference and replied,

“Same. I thought we were over it. I overheard him sticking up for my captaincy against Seamus yesterday morning. I was in my four poster and they either didn’t realize I was still there or they assumed I was sleeping. In any case, I assumed his defense meant that he was over his tantrum about me keeping a secret from him, but no such luck. Next time I saw him he was ignoring me just as much as ever.”

“Harry, if you know that he is on your side than why not just make up with him?”

“Because I’m sick of always being the one who is expected to say sorry even if I’m not the one at fault. I didn’t do anything wrong. I almost died. I almost fell off my broom to my death and not two seconds after I’m released from the hospital wing he’s tearing into me for having the audacity to keep a private thought to myself. No, you can call me stubborn and bull headed all you like, but I’m just as entitled to privacy as anyone else is. Even if he is my best mate and his feelings are coming from a better place that the Daily Prophet’s are, no one has the right to my private thoughts and feelings. Those are mine and I can share them or keep them to myself however I like!”

Hermione was prevented from answering by the entrance of Dean and Seamus.

“You know girls aren’t really supposed to be up here.” Seamus looked between Hermione and Harry suspiciously. Hermione flushed.

“I just needed to ask him a question and he was already in the dorm. Thanks for the chat Harry. I guess I’ll see you all tomorrow.” Hermione added. She looked at them each in turn as she awkwardly left the boys dorm.

0~0~0

Tuesday, 1/28/1997

Harry awoke in his four poster feeling refreshed. He stretched contentedly, luxuriating in the wonderful absence of arousing images, erections, and wets spots in his pants. _‘Just sleep. It’s so good.’_ Harry thought he’d be happy never dreaming again. He made his way to the boys shower and enjoyed a warm unconfused shower, taking care not to reflect on the last warm shower he’d had because dream or no dream thoughts like that would create a problem.

Harry meandered down to the Great Hall an uncharacteristic spring in his step. He noticed people’s appraising glances at the stark change in his demeanor and thought to himself amused, _‘People probably think I got laid or that I had a particularly good dream. It’s almost ironic.’_

As Harry took his usual seat at the Gryffindor table his eyes as always were drawn to the Slytherin across the hall. Now that Malfoy was no longer avoiding him he was back at his former seat, directly opposite and facing Harry. The blond was watching him and Harry found his heart speeding up. Harry was used to looking at Malfoy in the Great Hall. He was not used to being so obviously caught at it. Malfoy wasn’t looking away either. He was pointedly ignoring the people around him in fact.

Harry didn’t know how Malfoy thought this friendship was going to stay under the radar if Malfoy was going to act so blatantly affected by it. As if sensing Harry’s critique Malfoy pulled his gaze away and answered the question a brunette fourth year Slytherin girl seemed to be asking him. Whatever she said to him made him laugh and Harry felt an irrational jolt of jealousy in his stomach.

 _‘I don’t care if he laughs with other people. That would be absurd. We’re not even REAL friends’_ He reminded himself. _‘Even if we were real friends that would still be a stupid thing for me to get angry about. I wouldn’t give two shits if Ron laughed with someone else.’_

This reminded Harry that Ron wasn’t even talking to him much less laughing with him at present. A reminder the sunk his earlier good mood even further than his stupid overreaction to Malfoy and the flirty fourth year. Harry felt suddenly resentful towards the both of them. He’d been having an ace morning and somehow without saying anything to him, or rather by not saying anything to him two of his supposed friends had managed to bollocks that up for him.

 _‘I’m really considering Malfoy a friend then.’_ He realized as he contemplated the implications of his having mentally grouped Malfoy with Ron. The notion was still so new and foreign to him, but the more he thought about it the more he felt it must be true. He’d never cared about Malfoy laughing before, except when it had been at his expense, so Malfoy’s change in status from enemy to friend was the only explanation that made sense.

 _‘I’m just a bit territorial of the friendship because it’s so fresh. We haven’t laughed like that together so I’m just jealous that he’s laughing like that with someone else. Particularly some upstart fourth year snake.’_ Some rogue faction of Harry's mind added. _‘I probably wouldn't even be feeling this way if I were on speaking terms with my best mate.’_ He mentally persuaded himself. _'I'm just used to having a guy friend to talk to and Ron is being a git.'_ The concept that he was jealous of Malfoy’s attentions was less unsettling when he framed it as just being an indicator that missed Ron. _'Of course that's what it is. What's it to me if Malfoy chats up some pretty Slytherin girl?'_

When Harry finally rose out of this baffling inner monologue he saw that Malfoy was once again watching him. Though this time with a smile and an infuriatingly knowing glint in his eyes that left Harry wondering what exactly his face had given away. _‘Or rather what Malfoy is wrongly reading into it.’_ He corrected himself. _  
_

It was only when Harry saw Malfoy rising from his table that he remembered that they had no classes together today and that he hadn’t bothered to mention to Malfoy on Sunday that Gryffindor had a Tuesday practice.

 _‘Bollocks.’_ He cursed himself as he hurried across the hall to catch up with Malfoy. He desperately hoped that people would chalk it up as just a coincidence. _'They aren't likely to suspect we're friends anyway, not with our history.'_

Harry caught up with Malfoy at the doorway to the Entrance Hall and purposefully crashed their shoulder's together in his feigned haste. He took advantage of their closeness as they both stumbled from the jolt of impact to whisper, “Gryffindor practice is tonight at four.” As they clumsily right themselves the apple Malfoy had been carrying with him slipped from his hand and rolled across the floor of the Entrance Hall.

“Watch where you’re running four eyes.” Malfoy spat.

Harry flinched at the anger in the Malfoy's voice before he remembered where they were. Harry looked through the door and was unsurprised to see dozens of eyes watching them. _'They're probably hoping for a fight. A month ago they probably would have gotten their wish too.'_ Knowing that they had to keep up appearances in public he crouched down and picked up the fallen apple and threw it back at Malfoy without warning. He knew he had to play his part too.

“Nice catch Malfoy, shame quidditch isn’t played with flying apples.” Harry turned the conversation to quidditch so that he could get some indication of whether or not Malfoy had heard his message about practice. He was beginning to wonder if he ought to have just sent an owl, _‘I can’t do that though. Anyone could see that and we can’t afford people catching us corresponding with one another.’_

“You wish you were half the seeker I am Potter. I heard you can’t even stay seated on your broom these days, oh how the mighty have fallen. Have fun at practice tonight, don’t crash…” Malfoy let his voice trail off in his trademark droll, and Harry had to fight hard not to smile. Pretend fighting was actually kind of fun. _‘But it only works if you play your part too.’_ He mentally chided himself as he schooled his features into an appropriately outrage expression. Malfoy sneered back, but Harry thought it looked like his eyes were smiling. _‘Great now I’m bloody reading into facial expressions.’_ Harry stalked off in feigned angry but the warmth he’d felt on contact with Malfoy lingered long after the blond was out of sight.

0~0~0

Draco breathed in the brisk January air. The days were finally starting to get longer again, but he knew they still had two hours until dusk at best. Draco wished he’d pressed Harry for a little more detail on the proximity pain. He wasn’t sure how close he was supposed to get. How far away did he have to be for it to hurt Harry? He wondered what Harry had been doing during Slytherin Quidditch practices.

 _‘Does he come out to watch me?’_ Draco hoped so. His seeking skills had shown a marked improvement since his transformation, and Harry was the only one at school sufficiently in his league to appreciate the gains he’d made. _‘Probably the only one who has watched me close enough to appreciate the nuances of my technique. Everyone else only watches the seekers when they’re in their final dive for the snitch.’_ During Gryffindor matches Draco always watched Harry throughout, everyone else was just sort of background noise.

Draco settled himself against a tree in the field closest to the quidditch pitch. He hoped it would provide enough cover that he wouldn’t be spotted and asked why he was sitting outside in the snow in January. He had a readied excuse. If asked he would tell people that he was out hoping to see Potter fall again. His ominoculars would validate that claim since they’d be recording Harry anyway, but given the choice he’d prefer to avoid confrontation altogether. He had matured beyond the childish wishes of his third year self and he no longer wished to be seen as the sort of person who would actually want one of their classmates to fall horribly to their death.

He dialed in his ominoculars when he saw seven red specks exiting the castle.

 _‘I never realized just how far the pitch is from the castle.’_ Draco mused. Though he supposed it was probably for the better that it was far. If Harry had passed out for being even less distance than this from him than they were really going to have a hard time functioning in the future. _‘We are really going to have to find a solution to that proximity problem. I’m not going to live my life on a one mile chain.’_

For the first time in his life Malfoy found himself wishing that his family had smaller land holdings. He knew his father owned everything for at least five miles around the Manor and he wondered how on earth they were going to keep the bond a secret from the Dark Lord when his mother would surely feel Potter breach the wards of their land.

 _‘This summer is going to be a problem. Maybe I can convince my family that Snape is taking me on a junior apprentice or something.’_ Though, the idea of living together with Harry and Snape at Spinner’s End was so ridiculous that he couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the mere thought of it.

Draco couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed or smiled so much in a month. Certainly, it must have been before the Dark lord returned. He reflexively looked down at his arm, now free of the Dark Mark thanks to Harry.

Draco’s eyes followed Harry’s carefree flight through the sky and he let himself feel for the first time that despite the difficulties they would face maybe this bond wasn’t such a horrible thing after all. Maybe he could do more than tolerate it. Maybe he could like it.

Harry executed a perfect Wronski Feint and rose out of the dive with his hand clutching the practice snitch and his face flushed with excitement. Draco’s stomach swooped at the sight. _‘Maybe I like it already.’_

0~0~0

Wednesday, 1/29/1997

Breakfast in the Great Hall on Wednesday was a morning spectacle as yet unrivaled in Harry’s six years at Hogwarts. Apparently bored with the subtler more refined invitations he'd used to invite students to his earlier Slug Club gatherings, or perhaps feeling that the gatherings weren’t garnering the level of intrigue or envy he felt his soirees merited, Slughorn had gone all out with the invitations to his Valentine’s Day Party. Modified Howlers, pink in color, arrived to each of the ‘lucky’ invitees proclaiming in booming regal tones that the honor of their presence was requested yadda yadda yadda.

Harry couldn’t be sure what most of his howler/invitation had said to him since the simultaneous cacophony of two dozen of them going off at once, out of sync no less, made it impossible to make out much of anything. He gathered that the party would be on Valentine’s Day and assumed, since Valentine’s Day was on a week day this year that it would likely be an evening event, but that was all inference.

In truth he knew nothing, but that thanks to Slughorn he now had a horrible head ache. If the influx of predatory glances he was receiving from some of the girls at his table was any indicator likely several future headaches as well.

His only consolation was that he wouldn’t be alone. Hermione, Ginny, and to Harry’s pleasant surprise, Malfoy also received invites. Harry noted with another pang of jealousy that Malfoy was also on the receiving end of his fair share of predatory glances, but Malfoy was looking at him.

0~0~0

Thursday, 1/30/1997

“Excuse me?” An unknown Gryffindor girl asked him.

Draco spun on the spot, unused to being approached in the hall by random Gryffindors. _‘Is my influence at last spreading to that house?’_ he wondered. _‘I’m not even actively using my pheromones anymore.’_ The girl was attractive enough for him to feel complimented by her interest, though she was too young and frankly not to his taste. Not everything that had resulted from the bond was good but he could at least credit it for having helped him clear up the source of his indifference towards the opposite sex.

No he wouldn’t blame that on the bond. He was self-aware enough to admit that his apathy toward women long predated the change. He had just been too caught up in the indoctrination of his parents to appreciate that it might mean he liked men. An oversight he wasn’t likely to make again.

“Yes?” He answered, figuring he was best off declining her quickly and getting back to what he was doing before.

She leaned forward conspiratorially and looked both ways to ensure that they were in fact alone in the hallway. Draco stiffened suspicious, and readied his wand.

“I’m told that you sell Amortentia.” She answered without preface. “I’d like to commission some. I’d like to have it before Valentine’s Day. Is that possible?”

Draco straightened, but the hand on his wand relaxed.

“I’m not sure where you got the idea that I sell illegal potions, but I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed.” He replied in clipped tones. It might limit his market, but selling exclusively to Slytherins was one of his safeguard against being caught for illegal potions sales. Slytherins know how to keep a secret.

“Please,” She grabbed the sleeve of his robe and met his eyes pleadingly. “I know you don’t normally sell to Gryffindors, but I’m desperate. I used a Weasley Wizard Wheezes love potion over the holiday break and it didn’t have the slightest effect. He hasn’t looked at me once and that was over a month ago. I need something stronger. Something brewed by a competent brewer.” Draco couldn’t help but smile at the not so subtle jab at his Weasley competitors, this girl might be a Gryffindor but she knew how to sweet talk like a Slytherin. He admired her pluck. “What makes you think I even brew such a potion?” He asked.

She shuffled her feet. “I don’t want to get her in trouble.”

Draco looked at her sternly and she seemed to realize that he was not going to sell to her unless she answered his question.

“I’m friends with Astoria Greengrass. But please don’t be cross with her. She never would have told me if she didn’t know how desperate I was and she knows I can be trusted. We’ve been friends since first year and no one is the wiser. THAT’S how good I am at keep secret. Please? Price is no object.”

Those were the magic words. Foolish words, Gryffindor words, but magic words none the less.

“It just so happens I have some Amortentia on hand. With Valentine’s Day around the corner I anticipated that there may be a demand.” She practically bounced with excitement.

 _‘Yes, I’m going to be able to buy myself something very nice.’_ He thought to himself as he contemplated how much money the girl was likely to have and therefore how much he could ask without risking pricing the potion above her means. _‘Very nice.’_

0~0~0

Friday, 1/31/1997

“I can’t believe we have essays in Herbology, Transfiguration, and History of Magic all due the first half of next week. Are they trying to kill us?” Harry moaned as he and Hermione stomped their way back up the stairs from dinner.

“They are trying to prepare us for NEWTS.” Hermione explained indulgently.

“I think they’re just trying to ruin a perfectly good weekend. I mean honestly how hard would it be for them to coordinate with one another and stagger their assignments?”

“Be happy that it’s happening now and not two weeks from now.”

“Why?”

“Valentine’s Day.”

“Ugh, not you too. Why is everyone so excited about it? I think it’s a stupid holiday. I hope we are assigned this much in two weeks. Having a collective forty inches to write is just the sort of legitimate excuse that could actually get me out of that bloody party.”

“Oh Harry, come on now, the parties aren’t half as bad as you make them out to be.”

“Says someone who’s not forcibly ushered around and shown off like the prized jewel of Slughorn’s creepy student collection.”

“No, I’m just his miracle muggle-born. I mean honestly my talent in his class doesn’t need to be qualified by my blood purity. As though my marks are MORE impressive because of my parentage. It’s all I can do to hold back grinding my teeth when he introduces me as a muggle-born first and as Hermione Granger second.” She seethed.

“I guess you have me there. Though if that’s how you feel about it than I don’t know why you're even bothering to defend the parties.”

“Whether we like his methods or not they are great networking opportunities Harry. In little more than a year we will be out of school and out in the real world trying to find jobs and make a name for ourselves.”

“Yes, because being an unknown is a real problem for me.” Harry turned to face her so that she could see him rolling his eyes at her.

“Oh all right fine. You win, that was a stupid argument to make. If his attention really bothers you so much you should just bring a date. It’s a Valentine’s Day party I’m sure he’d leave you alone if you were there with someone.” Hermione suggested.

“I brought Luna last time.” Harry replied defensively.

“Yeah, well I don’t think anyone, least of all Professor Slughorn, was convinced that you had anything beyond platonic feelings for her. Is there really no one you like? You’ve seemed so much happier this week, I had kind of hoped maybe you’d found someone.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Who could I be with without you knowing about it? I’ve just been happier because I’m finally sleeping properly again. So what about you? Are you going to ask McLaggen again?” Harry teased. Hermione pulled a face.

“Don’t even joke I-” Whatever else Hermione was going to say was cut off as a heavily laden school owl crashed into her and then ricocheted into Harry’s arms. _‘Thank Merlin for seeker reflexes. Poor bird. The person could have at least had the decency to shrink the package before sending the bird off.’_ He thought angrily.

Hermione helped him relieve the startled bird of its burden. It flew off the moment its leg was liberated.

“Honestly, some people.” Hermione shook her head in disgust at the treatment of the bird. “So which one of us is the package for?” She asked.

Harry opened the card and read out loud.

**I hope to someday call you mine,**

**Please agree to be my Valentine,**

**Every day you’re what my heart most misses,**

**This chocolate tastes just like my kisses,**

**I hope this effort is not in vain,**

**Yours Always,**

**Romilda Vane**

Harry pantomimed gagging, “Honestly, vain and Vane. That’s not even a rhyme; it’s practically the same word.”

Hermione laughed at him. “Suddenly you’re a poetry critic?” She said as she opened the package and was met with a truly obscene quantity of chocolate turtles. “Harry you should be careful with these. She sounds pretty infatuated. I wouldn’t put it past some of your fans to resort to using love potions.”

Harry shot her a scathing glare. “Do you think I’m an idiot? Of course I’m going to bin it. I don’t even like chocolate turtles, as anyone who really knows me would know. Which really just drives home the point that these ‘fans’ don’t even really like me. They just like the idea of me.” He shook his head. “And you wonder why I don’t date more.”

“Harry, not everyone out there who you could be with would use drugs to make you submit.”

 _‘No,’_ Harry thought self-pityingly, _‘because I can only be with one person and he doesn't need to use drugs on me. He has Veela magic.’_


	14. Unintended Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron is stupid, no news there. Also more Luna!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't usually bother with disclosure statements since this is fan fiction and it kinda goes without saying that we are borrowing ideas from Harry Potter, but since I actually do some pretty direct paraphrasing in the scene with Slughorn I feel compelled to state that I do not own this world, these characters, or the some of the situations they find themselves in. It is all creative property of J.K. Rowling and her publishers.

Author notes:

_Italicized words are character thoughts_

**_Italicized & boldfaced words are dream sequences or memories_ **

**Boldfaced words are in text reading materials (like books or letters)**

000 Represents a shift in character perspective

0~0~0 Represents a shift in scene (often followed by the date the new scene takes place if it is on a different day than the prior scene)

Chapter 14: Unintended Consequences 

Saturday, 2/01/1997

Harry walked into the boys’ dorm dripping wet. After having braved the torrents of rain outside the castle Harry had grudgingly accepted that quidditch practice would have to be postponed. Harry had to hope that Malfoy would infer on his own that practice was cancelled as he had no way of subtly tipping him off between now and the predetermined pitch time.

Everyone in Gryffindor house he could mercifully reach in person. Most of Gryffindor House seemed to be congregated in the common room playing exploding snap or wizard’s chest or in the case of fifth and seventh years, studying for their upcoming exams. It seemed Harry’s trip outside had cost him the opportunity to have breakfast.

Harry managed to find all of his players, with the exception of Ron, with ease. _‘I wonder where he and Lav Lav are curled up hiding this time.’_ He rolled his eyes. He was happy for his friend, even if they were fighting. But Ron's penchant for public displays of affection coupled with the resultant tension such displays created between him and Hermione left Harry feeling not so generous on the topic. _‘At least if he thinks he has time to snog his girlfriend than he must have figured out practice was cancelled.’_ Things were still tense between the two boys as Ron hadn’t yet apologized for being unreasonable and Harry refused to apologize for overreacting until Ron did. Harry climbed the stairs to the 6 th year dorm to get some dry clothes as he mulled over the current state of relationships in his life.

 _‘Hermione, my line toeing rule abiding best friend is lying to teachers and brewing illegal quantities of controlled potions for me, Ron is refusing to speak to me because I don’t want to talk to him about the fact that I’m having wet dreams of and wanking off to MALFOY, and Malfoy…’_ Harry sighed. _‘I don’t even know. Friends just feels like such a strange thing to think of Malfoy as, he's so different from my other friends.’_ Harry thought about the civil conversations they’d had, the teasingly antagonistic banter they’d exchanged both alone and as a public front, and the fact that Malfoy was willing to spend hours twice a week sitting out in the cold just so Harry wouldn’t feel pain. Harry imagined Draco bundled up in a heavy woolen cloak, sitting in a snowbank with his hair whipping in the wind as he watched him fly. Harry's stomach fluttered a little and he found himself clearing his throat unnecessarily. _‘Yeah, I reckon I’m friends with Malfoy.’_ The irony that it had been barely a month since the blond git had tried to use an unforgivable on Harry and that in return Harry had almost killed him, was not lost on Harry.

Though when Harry thought about it he remembered that his friendship with Hermione had been forged fighting a troll and thwarting the theft of the philosopher’s stone, his friendship with Ginny had blossomed when he slayed a basilisk and saved her from a possessed diary, and his friendships with Neville and Luna had solidified when they through caution to the wind and joined him in hijacking school thestrals, breaking into the ministry and fighting death eaters in the Hall of Prophecies. So if he was being honest with himself was the beginning of his friendship with Malfoy really all that unusual for him?

Harry made a mental note to share some of those stories with Malfoy. He’d probably get a good laugh out of Harry’s past and really if he was set on being Harry’s friend he deserved to know what exactly he was getting into.

The door to the boys’ dorm creaked open without him needing to cast an alohamora. _‘Good.’_ Harry thought. His fears that his errant teammate was locked up here snogging his girlfriend were thankfully unfounded. He didn’t know where Ron and Lavender went for their trysts, nor did he want to.

Harry was even less keen to walk in on that scene than he was of being stuck in his wet robes for the rest of the day. Harry entered the room and was surprised to find that it actually was occupied by his red headed friend, though thankfully Lavender was nowhere in sight.

Ron was curled up in the window seat staring out into the rain and looking maudlin.

“Ron?” Harry asked. This wasn’t how he had imagined them breaking their silence, but he wasn’t about to just walk away when his friend was so obviously upset. More over upon closer inspection Harry saw that Ron looked alarmingly pale and almost sickly. “Is something wrong with you?” Harry asked, becoming increasingly concerned as his friend continued to stare silently out through the rain washed window.

Harry patted his friends shoulder and Ron finally acknowledged him. “Mate, when was the last time you ate?” Harry asked.

“I’m not hungry.” Ron answered, looking passed Harry with worryingly unfocused eyes.

Harry searched the room for the probable source of Ron’s strange behavior. When he saw the box of chocolate turtles lying open on Ron’s bed the truth of the situation hit him with the force of a stampeding troll.

“Ron, where did you get those chocolate turtles?” Harry pointed frantically across the room. Ron’s eyes lazily followed him.

“Oh those? They were in your trash bin; the whole box, sealed and everything. You must have chucked them on accident. No worries, I saved them before the house elves could vanish them away. Feel free to help yourself to some; I’m not hungry for chocolate anymore.” Ron’s eyes drifted back to the door that led door to the Gryffindor common room.

 _‘Hermione was right,’_ Harry cursed himself. _‘I should have been more careful with those bloody chocolates.’_ Harry thought to himself as he shrunk and pocketed the rest of the package to show to Slughorn. _‘Though you’d think they would have been safe from consumption in the bloody bin!’_ Harry shook his head at his friend.

“Ron, I think you might be sick. I think something might be off about those chocolates.” Harry began as he tried to subtly coax his friend away from the window and out of the dorm room.

“It’s not that,” Ron sighed again. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Fair enough,” Harry answered, happy that his friend was at least being responsive and wasn’t fighting his attempts to get him downstairs.

“Harry!” Said Ron suddenly.

“What?” Harry brow furrowed in worry.

“Harry, I can’t stand it!”

“You can’t stand what?” Harry asked, his hand now pressing into his friends back as he tried to herd him down the stairs.

“I can’t stop thinking about her!” Ron answered hoarsely.

Harry’s muscles tensed as his fears were confirmed. _‘A bloody love potion.’_ The offending chocolates felt heavy in his pocket and Harry fought back his anger. Now wasn’t the time to unleash his righteous indignation. Ron would misunderstand and think Harry was angry at him.

“I don’t think she knows I exist.” Ron continued; oblivious to Harry’s contained rage.

“Who? Who are you talking about?” Harry clenched his fists and braced himself for the final confirmation of his suspicions.

“Romilda, of course. Who else?” Ron’s whole face lit up as he repeated her name reverently. “Romilda Vane. Have you seen her hair, it’s all black and shiny and silky… and her eyes? Her big dark eyes… And her-” Ron mooned.

Harry’s first instinct was to get Hermione, but he discarded the thought almost immediately. Things between the two of them were already complicated enough with her having to listen to him as he waxed poetic about Romilda Vane.

“I think… Harry, I think I love her,” Ron explained in a strangled voice.

_‘Nope, I’m definitely not dragging Hermione into this.’_

“Ron.” Harry clasped his friend by the shoulders and tried to meet his eyes. “You are under the influence of a love potion. Those chocolates that you nicked from the bin, they were sent by Romilda. It seems they were spiked. I’m sorry Ron, but that’s why you really shouldn’t eat things you find in the garbage.”

Only one word of this speech seemed to have registered in Ron’s mind.

“Romilda? Did you say Romilda? Harry – do you know her? Can you introduce me?”

A childish part of Harry fought the urge to laugh. The whole situation was just so absurd. Here the two of them were embroiled in a week long silent treatment over boundaries and yet Ron felt comfortable enough to rummage through his trash for sweets. A part of him, possibly the Slytherin part, was keen on the idea of letting Ron run amok and ride out his infatuation until the effects of the potion wore off… but on the other hand, they were supposed to be friends and Harry knew that he would deserve several weeks of silent treatment if he permitted Ron to declare his undying love for Romilda Vane.

“Yeah, I’ll introduce you,” said Harry, thinking fast. “Why don’t we head down to Slughorn’s office now?” Harry asked as he resumed their descent down to the common room.

“Why would she be there?” Ron asked anxiously as he hurried to keep up with Harry.

“Oh, she has extra Potions lessons with him,” Harry invented wildly.

“Maybe I can ask to have them with her!” Ron beamed.

“Great idea,” replied Harry as he ushered his friend through the common room and out the portrait hole.

Harry was relieved when Slughorn answered his office door at the first knock, wearing a green velvet dressing gown and matching nightcap and looking rather bleary-eyed.

“Harry,” he mumbled. “This is a very early for a call… I generally sleep late on a Saturday…”

“Professor, I’m really sorry to disturb you,” said Harry as quietly as possible, while Ron stood on tiptoe, trying in vain to peek into Slughorn’s room, “but my friend here seems to have swallowed a rather powerful love potion.” Harry fished the box of chocolate turtles from his robe pocket and unshrunk it. “I believe the potion was in these chocolates. They were sent by one of the girls who have been trying to get me to invite her to your Valentine’s Day Soiree.” Harry added, figuring a little guilting wouldn’t go amiss. “I’m not fond of chocolate turtles so Ron ate them in my stead, and well here we are.”

“Ah yes, my party, I expect it to be quite something. No surprise that the young ladies are getting duplicitous, especially with a date like you unclaimed. You might do yourself a favor and pick someone lest this should become a daily occurrence. Not that you mind the attention, I’m sure.” He winked at Harry conspiratorially. “I was a bit of a heart breaker myself in my youth so I understand the allure of playing the field. Just don’t lead them on too far. A woman scorned can be a vengeful scary thing.” He added sagely.

“Right,” Harry replied awkwardly. “So I was hoping that you could brew him an antidote.” Harry looked over at Ron, who was now elbowing him in the ribs in his urgency to enter the room.

“I’d have thought you could have whipped him up a remedy, Harry, an expert potioneer like you.” Slughorn praised.

“Er…I’ve never mixed an antidote to a love potion before. I’m worried that by the time I get it right he may have already done something serious-”

Helpfully, Ron chose this moment to moan, “I can’t see her, Harry – is he hiding her?”

“Why don’t I take a look at those chocolates?” Slughorn said as he stepped aside invited the boys into the room.

Slughorn walked over to his work table and carefully sliced one of the chocolate turtles in half. He sniffed the liquid that drizzled out of the chocolate and his eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline.

“Amortentia, Harry you have a dedicated fan indeed. It is good that you brought your friend to me. The antidote for Amortentia is neither quick nor easy to brew. Fortunately for your friend here I always keep some on hand in my cabinet. Professional precaution; after a nasty incident I had a potions conference back in the seventies I never go far without it, but that m'boy is a story for another day.” He reached into his potions cabinet and pulled out a small vial with purple fluid.

“Where is she?” Ron’s head whooped around the room searching for Romilda.

“She’s not here yet,” Harry explained.

“”That’s good,” said Ron fervently. “How do I look?”

“Very handsome,” said Slughorn smoothly as he pressed the vial of antidote into Ron’s hand. “Now drink that up, it’s a tonic for the nerves, it’ll keep you calm when she arrives.”

“Brilliant,” Ron gulped down the antidote eagerly.

Harry and Slughorn watched him as his grin slowly sagged and vanished into an expression of utmost horror.

“Back to normal then?” Slughorn chuckled.

“Thanks a lot Professor.” Harry said as Ron collapsed into a nearby armchair looking devastated.

“Don’t mention it m’boy. Though you wouldn’t be remiss in relaying this to the headmaster. The use of Amortentia is no joking matter.” Slughorn added seriously.

“I don’t want someone to be expelled just because they wanted to date me. It’s a silly thing for someone’s life to get ruined over.”

“Ay, that’s very mature of you. Never the less you should be on your look out. Who knows what some people might do to get a date to one of my parties.” Slughorn smiled smugly at Harry.

He glanced over at the now very morose Ron, possibly remembering how rude it is to go on about an event that not everyone present is invited to and added, “Pick me up, that’s what he needs. I’ve got butterbeer, wine, and one last bottle of this oak matured mead…hmm… meant to give that to Dumbledore for Christmas…ah, well…” He shrugged “He can’t miss what he never had!” Slughorn chortled as he poured them each a share of the mead.

“Nothing like a fine spirit to chase away the pangs of disappointed love.” He handed the two boys a glass of mead each before raising his own. “To good friends, always there when you need them, but apt to never let you live it down.”

Ron downed his glass without even waiting for Slughorn to finish. Ron’s body tensed and there was a brief moment in which Harry knew that something had gone horribly wrong and Slughorn, it seemed, did not.

“Ron!”

Ron’s glass slipped from his fingers as his extremities jerked uncontrollably. He convulsed onto the floor with bulging eyes and a foaming mouth.

“Professor!” Harry cried, “Do something!”

Slughorn remained stock still as though unable to process the scene before him. Harry looked desperately between his immobile potions professor and his twitching friend.

Harry reacted without thinking and leapt across the room to Slughorn’s potions cupboard. He rifled through assorted jars and pouches desperately. His heart raced in fear as the sound of his friend’s gargling breath filled the room.

At last he found the small box he was looking for. **BEZOARS**. His fingers clenched around the small shriveled kidney like stone and he bolted back across the room to where a still choking Ron was beginning to turn blue. He wrenched open his friends jaw and thrust the bezoar into his mouth. Ron gave a great shudder, a rattling gasp, and his body became limp and still. Harry collapsed beside him panting from his exertion but relieved. The color was returning to Ron’s face. He was breathing. It would be okay.

0~0~0

The rain beat relentlessly against the ceiling of the Great Hall, blurring the usually pristine enchanted view of the sky above. _‘So practice is cancelled.’_ Draco presumed as his eyes scanned the Gryffindor table for its team captain. _‘Harry of course is probably knee deep in mud, making certain conditions are suitably poor rather than just looking out a window like a normal person.’_ Draco snorted into his breakfast. An inelegant sound that earned him some confused glances from the fans sitting closest to him.

Draco resisted the urge to massage his temples. Gratified though he was at having at last been invited to the Slug Club, the earlier slight still chafed, he was growing tired from the unwanted attention it had earned him. The fervor of his fans had died down when he stopped using his pheromones, but now it seemed to be back in full swing and it was all he could do to even escape their incessant fawning and flattery.

It was times like this that he was extra thankful for the Room of Requirement. He could hide there all day and none of his fans could get to him. He would of course leave the room open to Potter. Since the apartment was Potter’s invention it seemed only fair that he should have unlimited access to it. If Potter happened to drop by muddied up and wanting a private shower than all the better. Draco might not even spy this time. _‘Hell, I may even make use of the facilities myself.’_ Draco bit back a devious smile at the thought and continued to patently ignore his fans for the rest of the meal.

It took some ingenuity and rather more time than he would have liked but Draco finally managed to shirk off his followers before he reached the seventh floor. He skidded to a halt as he reached the would be blank wall. It wasn’t blank. Nor was it the door to Potter’s apartment, though he did recognize it.

He opened the door and sure enough the room was in full springtime bloom. Luna was seated at her usual table sipping tea like the indoor garden and beaming sunshine on a dreary raining winter day wasn’t strange at all.

“Good morning Luna.” He greeted her as he took what was quickly becoming his usual seat.

“You’re late.” She answered before taking another sip of her tea. “The tea has gone cold.”

“Late?” He asked. “I don’t recall us having plans to meet.”

“Well that’s never stopped us before, now has it?” She tapped her watch crossly, “It’s half past hen.”

He craned his neck and glanced over at the animal faced wrist watch and replied, “Dare I even ask?” She smiled at his cheek.

“A little bird told me that Harry flew without incident on Tuesday.” She replied, ignoring his question as she charmed the teapot warm again and poured him a cup.

“Really, a little bird? Not a nargle or a wrackspurt?” He joked.

“Nor a giant squid.” She teased back. “I’m glad to see the two of you are getting on better. I was worried for you.”

“I think we have a long way to go before we reach an ideal equilibrium, but we’ve certainly made some progress.” He grabbed the teacup she reached out to him.

Luna smiled at his admission. “Oh? What might an ideal arrangement look like?”

Draco took a long drag from his still tepid tea before replying, “Upon reflection, I find myself not as averse to the bond as I initially was. An ideal arrangement would require Pot- Harry feeling the same.” He finished, looking into his tea contemplatively.

Luna reached out and patted his hand comfortingly.

“He will Draco. It may take a bit of time yet he’s stubborn and, Merlin love him, a bit slow at times but he always comes to the right conclusions eventually.”

Draco smiled at her vote of confidence. “And I’m the right conclusion for Harry?” He asked, already knowing her opinion but wanting the vocal reassurance that he at least had the support of one of Harry’s longtime friends.

“Now now Draco, if you want to fish for compliments go out and do that at the lake. I rather think the giant squid would prefer that to the yelling.” Her eyes twinkled, “But yes, this bond, you are the best conclusion for him. It just may take him a while to see that too.”

“Well I always have been a bit quicker on the uptake than him haven’t I?” Draco smirked. Luna just smiled and shook her head at him.

0~0~0

Monday, 2/03/1997

Harry went directly to the hospital wing after he finished his Monday classes. Not wasting the time to go up to his room and change his clothes he cast a quick scourgify on himself to remove the worse of the soil from Herbology. He knew Ron wouldn’t care either way, but he didn’t want to earn Madame Pomfrey’s wrath if he didn’t need to. Harry found himself strangely nervous. After Harry had force fed Ron the bezoar Ron had remained unconscious for the rest of Saturday. On Sunday he had be constantly surrounded by friends and family. Unsure of their footing Harry hadn’t wanted to intrude on his recovery. As such this was going to be their first chance actually speaking to each other and Harry hoped Ron was ready to bury the hatchet and move on from their petty fight.

“Ron?” he asked tentatively as he pried away the hospital bed curtains. Ron looked up from the book he was reading. There was a whole stack on his bedside table. _‘Obviously Hermione has already been here today.’_ Harry thought.

“Hey,” Ron replied, closing his book and setting it down with the others. He scratched his head mussing up his hair nervously, “I reckon I’ve been a bit of a prat.” Ron began. “I’m sorry I flipped at you last week… and that I ignored you. Thank you for saving me.”

“I wasn’t going to let you die-” Harry made to interrupt but Ron raised his hand.

“I know Harry. I know you wouldn’t. That’s my point. You’re a good friend. You could have let me embarrassment myself over Romilda. It would have served me right too. No need to lecture me over the foolishness of eating food from the garbage. I promise you my mum and Hermione have both given me an earful over it. Trust me, lesson learned.” Ron laughed at himself.

Harry smiled, the tension easing out of his shoulders as the relief that he no longer had to walk around the dorm on eggshells washed over him.

“How are you feeling?”

Ron shrugged. “I’ve felt better. Pomfrey says I can’t practice tomorrow, but that I should be fine by the end of the week. I broke up with Lavender.” He added.

Harry’s eyebrows lifted in surprise.

“Or rather, she broke up with me. Something about me whispering about other girls in my sleep or some shite. I reckon I said something about Romilda Vane I shouldn’t have. You’d think being dosed with Amortentia and then immediately thereafter poisoned would be enough of an excuse but guess not. Women…” He rolled his eyes meaningfully.

Harry wasn’t quite sure how to reply to that. Hermione had already told him about the incident in question. Apparently it was her name not Romilda’s that had featured in Ron’s sleep talking, but Harry didn’t feel it was his place to mention that, especially since he didn’t even witness it first-hand.

“I never got the impression you felt that strongly for her anyway.” Harry remarked.

“Nah, I mean she was alright but certainly not the one I was going to bring home to the folks. I reckon we were a bad match from the start. Did I tell you she demanded the sweetheart pendant back?” Ron guffawed, “As If I’d want to keep it. Vile thing, why any girl in their right mind would think a bloke would want something like that.”

“You’re better off.” Harry patted Ron’s shoulder reassuringly, “Plenty of smarter girls out there, you know, ones you’d want to take home to your family.” He hinted.

“I’ll miss the snogging though,” Ron continued, clearly missing Harry’s prompt. “It’s brilliant, snogging.” He looked up at Harry emphatically. “You’ve got to get yourself a girl mate. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

Harry just shook his head.

“Oh, you think you have all the time in the world, but keep in mind we pair up young in the wizarding world. If you wait too long all the good ones will already be snatched up.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Ron, believe me when I tell you that finding myself a girlfriend is the last thing I’m worried about right now.”

“Suit yourself mate, but if you end up alone or heaven forbid,” Ron pulled a face, “stuck with nothing but blokes or muggles to choose from don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Ron jibbed.

Harry’s face fell at the bloke remark, _‘Is Ron homophobic?’_ he wondered; another unnecessary worry added to plethora of confusing feelings Harry was already suffering under. Harry schooled his features into a tense smile and Ron remained blissfully unaware of his friend’s feelings as usual.


	15. Divided Loyalties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry learns about different kinds of prejudices.

Author notes:

_Italicized words are character thoughts_

_**Italicized & boldfaced words are dream sequences or memories** _

**Boldfaced words are in text reading materials (like books or letters)**

000 Represents a shift in character perspective

0~0~0 Represents a shift in scene (often followed by the date the new scene takes place if it is on a different day than the prior scene)

Chapter 15: Divided Loyalties

Monday, 2/03/1997

Harry walked back up to Gryffindor dorm in a confused haze. He was happy that Ron was feeling better. He was happy that he and Ron were back on good terms. He was happy that Ron and Lavender broke up and now maybe finally Ron and Hermione would stop dancing around each other.

‘ _Why in the bloody hell don’t I feel happy then!’_ He wanted to scream. His unease made his skin crawl.

When he walked through the portrait hole and was caught immediately by Hermione’s friendly then immediately thereafter concerned gaze he realized he hadn’t bothered to school his features before walking into the common room.

When she jabbed her head in the direction of the boys dorm Harry didn’t even bother trying to argue. He wanted to talk about this. He followed her placidly up the stairs. Thankfully it was still early enough that the room was empty.

“What happened?” Hermione asked the moment the door closed behind them.

“Nothing.” Harry began, but was silenced by Hermione’s dubious glare. “No, really. I just had a talk with Ron is all.”

Hermione sighed in exasperation. “Honestly, is he STILL being a berk?! I had rather hoped that the whole incident with the poison would have fixed his priorities. Figures.” She shook her head in disappointment. Harry raised his hands to stop her.

“No, Hermione. You’re misunderstanding. We’re good now. He buried the hatchet and we aren’t fighting anymore.” When she raised an eyebrow doubtfully he added. “I swear.”

“Then why do you look like someone kicked your krup?”

It was Harry’s turn to sigh now. He scratched his head as he decided how much he wanted to say. He didn’t rightly know why the conversation had unsettled him as much as it did and he wasn’t sure if he wanted his confused feelings picked apart by Hermione’s analysis.

“We were talking and he just said something. You know offhand and casual, not meaning anything by it. But it revealed a side of Ron I hadn’t seen before. We’ve been best mates for six years and I had no idea.”

Hermione’s interest was peaked now and she was listening to him raptly.

“I reckon Ron’s homophobic.”

Hermione clucked her tongue and nodded.

“You don’t look surprised. Did you already think that?”

Hermione paused for a few moments to consider her words. “It’s not a topic that I’ve given much thought to. He’s never said anything prejudice in my line of hearing, but based on other stuff I can’t say I’m completely surprised. What did he say to you specifically?”

“Well, he was telling me I ought to get a girlfriend. That in the wizarding world couples pair off young and that if I wait too long all the good wizarding women will be taken and I’ll be stuck with only blokes or muggles. It wasn’t so much the words themselves as the face he pulled as he said them. It occurs to me that I have no idea what the wizarding world’s view on homosexuality even is. Maybe all wizards are put off by it and I’m being unfair to Ron.”

Hermione interrupted him in her sternest lecturing voice. “Prejudice is never acceptable, Harry. Even if every member of the wizarding world shared hateful beliefs about homosexuals that wouldn’t make it okay.”

“Wow, Hermione. Lets not make a mountain of a molehill here. He didn’t actually say anything bad. For all we know he might have been pulling at face at the idea of me dating a muggle.” At the venomous look Hermione shot at him for that remark he quickly added. “Not that prejudice of that sort would be any better. I was just asking though because it occurs to me that I don’t even know the wizarding world’s stance on it and now I’m curious.”

Hermione gave him a long suffering look and said. “I’ve been telling you for years that you should really read up on wizarding culture in books, Harry. The biggest argument that pure-bloods make against muggle-borns is that we are diluting their culture by refusing to learn their ways. If more muggle-raised wizards and witches made an effort to learn magical history we’d be able to counter that argument much more effectively.”

Harry shot her a small smile. “But it’s so much easier to just ask my living breathing walking talking reader’s digest encyclopedia of everything.”

Hermione just shook her head, but she seemed to take being compared to a book as a compliment. “Fine, I still think you should figure stuff out on your own once in a while, but I will answer your question. The wizarding world is not as a whole homophobic.”

“So is it like a pure-blood versus muggle-born thing? Like old pure-blooded families think it’s gross, but there’s enough muggle-borns and half-bloods from progressive muggle families to balance it out?”

“No, it’s nothing as simple as that. Hate is rarely simple Harry. Gay people aren’t really a new thing. Many magical scholars think Merlin and Arthur may have been romantically involved. Homophobia is more of an individual prejudice and really has no correlation to blood-purity at all. I can’t tell you for certain whether or not Ron is homophobic but I can tell you that even if he is that it is not an opinion shared by the Weasleys as a whole. Fred’s gay.”

“What?” Harry gaped, slumping down onto his bed as he tried to process what she was saying. Hermione sat down next to him and repeated.

“Fred, he’s gay.”

“But he went to the Yule Ball with Angelina Johnson.” Harry countered.

“And you went with Parvati Patil.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

“I’m just saying taking a date to the Yule Ball doesn’t necessarily mean you fancy them. Fred had an ulterior motive. You’ll notice that George and Angelina are dating now. You don’t think that’s odd. That she would jump from one brother to the other?”

“I never really thought about it.”

“Of course not. Boys.” She looked up at the ceiling like she was praying for patience. “Fred knew that George liked Angelina, but he wasn’t making a move so Fred prodded him along. He asked her so George would feel jealous and would admit his feelings.”

“That doesn’t seem very nice to Angelina. What if she had mistakenly developed feelings for Fred?”

“Do you think a master manipulator like Fred wouldn’t have thought of something like that? Angelina was in on it.”

“Wow, I wouldn’t have thought she had it in her.”

“Well you’d have to have a bit of a mischievous streak to date one of the Weasley twins. Anyway, Angelina is one of Lee Jordan’s closest friends and she knew that the two of them were together so there really wasn’t any room for her to misunderstand.”

“Lee Jordan and Fred Weasley?” Harry just stared at her blankly while his mind filtered through years of memories. “Well, they did spend an awful lot of time together. Often going of and whispering in corners. I always just assumed they were concocting dastardly plans, but I guess what you’re saying is plausible. How do you know all this anyway?”

“I asked Angelina. Honestly, how is it that I’m the only one who noticed that she went to the Yule Ball with one twin and then immediately thereafter was dating the other? Like that’s not suspicious. So yeah, I had a chat with her. It was nice actually. I don’t really have any girlfriends. I couldn’t exactly talk to you and Ron about Victor.” She blushed. “It was nice getting another girls opinion. She told me about how Fred had helped her snag George and the revelation about Fred and Jordan just happened. They aren’t really public about it yet. I didn’t press for details but reading between the lines I’ve gathered that Jordan may be from a not so accepting family. I’ve never said anything about it because I’m not a gossip monger and I respect people’s privacy. I’m only telling you now because I don’t want to getting it in your head that the Weasleys are homophobes. I don’t know what to tell you about Ron. I wasn’t there to see his expressions and his words weren’t officious enough on their own for us to hypothesize on his beliefs. I’d give him the benefit of the doubt and just assume he was saying something stupid as usual. He is known to do that.”

Harry grinned. “Yeah, he’s good for that.”

0~0~0

Tuesday, 2/04/1997

In retrospect, Draco realized, sitting in the quidditch stands to watch the Gryffindor practice may not have been his best idea ever. When the time had come for him to go out to the pitch and watch Harry, Draco hadn’t been able to bring himself to watch from afar as he had last time. He wanted to be closer. He wanted to watch Harry with his own eyes, not just with ominoculars. He wanted Harry to know that he was there.

All day the note Harry had slipped him during Transfiguration class had felt like it was burning a whole in his pocket. Despite his better efforts at self control he had found himself constantly pulling it out and admiring it.

His failure to suppress his amusement as he toyed with the note during his Ancient Ruins class had been so blatant that even the airy Professor Babbling had noticed and docked him 5 points for his inattentiveness. Even then he’d only put the note away to prevent it from being taken.

As he sat in the stands watching Harry fly he thought back to that morning in Transfiguration,

_**Draco as usual had arrived early so that he could have his preferred seat. Less characteristically Harry arrived early as well and wasted no time storming over to Draco’s desk. He slammed the note down angrily in front of Draco, fuming believably for their audience. It was lucky for him that McGonagal hadn’t arrived yet or she surely would have docked Harry points for the mistreatment of Hogwart’s furniture or behavior unbefitting the chosen one or some other such nonsense. Draco hadn’t needed to feign a smile for the act. Harry’s theatrical rage was every bit if not even more amusing than his genuine ire had once been.** _

“ _ **You can have your note back!” Harry spat before he stalked off to his side of the classroom. The few other students, two Ravenclaws and one Hufflepuff, had watched the exchange with interest and Draco’s grin deepened with the certainty that this little display would be all over the school by lunch time.**_

_**He waited until their eyes were diverted from him before he unfolded the note. It wouldn't do to seem surprised by the contents of a note that he had supposedly written, after all. He opened it to find a magically animated though crudely drawn sketch. It had taken every ounce of Draco’s self control to disguise his mirth as he watched the stick figure Harry flying clumsily on a broom, nose diving spectacularly, crashing into the ground, breaking his broomstick into two pieces and looking dazed and cross eyed as three snitches flew around his head. It played on a loop and Draco watched it three times through before he noticed that the note had a small written message at the bottom. It read “Have fun at practice tonight. Slytherin for the win!”** _

_**That final addition had broken him and Draco hadn’t been able to hold back his laughter. Either Potter was taking the need to inform Draco about practice entirely too seriously or he was taking the piss. After all, practice times were the same every week. It wasn’t exactly a hardship for Draco to remember that Gryffindor practices were Tuesday afternoons and Saturday mornings. But if Harry wanted to go all out for his amusement who was Draco to discourage him? It was all in good fun and playing up the animosity would keep people off the trail to their true connection.** _

Draco’s musings had so thoroughly distracted him that he hadn’t even noticed the approach of a burly 7th year Gryffindor until until he was already upon him, forcefully snatching the note from his hands.

The boy’s face contorted as he read the note. The scrunched up look of anger didn’t do the boy any favors, not that he was Draco’s type in the first place. _‘Too bulky and broad in the shoulders._ ’ He assessed as the boy’s muscles clenched in rage. Draco was mildly amused at himself for even having such a thought given the situation. _‘How is it that I didn’t realize I was bent before now?’_ He wondered. But that question was answered easily enough. _‘I was too busy trying to be the perfect heir for my family.’_ He thought. _‘And too busy obsessing over Potter.’_ A more honest part of him mentally added.

“Do you mind?” Draco asked the boy in a level tone devoid of emotion.

“You did this!” The boy clenched the note viciously in his fist and Draco bit the inside of his cheek. He wouldn’t reveal to this idiot that the note mattered to him, doing so would only guarantee the drawing’s destruction.

“The drawing?” Draco smirked. “I assure you if I had created that both the drawing and the charm work would have been of a higher caliber.”

“You made him crash. Don’t bother lying about it. We all know your father is a filthy death eater. It’s a wonder you were even allowed back into school.”

Draco shot to his feet. Whether is was from the insult to his family, the assertion that he shouldn’t be allowed in school, or the too close to the truth accusation that Harry’s fall was his fault Draco didn’t have time to analyze because the thug was bearing down on him.

Draco managed to dodge the punch but in doing so he stumbled backwards into the bleachers behind him. The boy was on him before he had a chance to right himself and all he could do was raise his arms in defense of his face. His wand was tangled still in his robe pocket. _‘I should have grabbed that while he was reading the note.’_ Draco mentally cursed himself as he kicked out defensively at his attacker.

Draco knew he could easily over power the boy if he let his Veela powers rise to the surface, but he couldn’t risk the secret getting out. So he kept his talons sheathed and stayed on the defense, deflecting blows with his agile legs.

‘ _What is it with bloody Gryffindors and wanting to fist fight? This is a magic school. We have wands!’_ He thought angrily as a swing penetrated his defenses and landed painfully on the same arm that had once born his dark mark.

Suddenly the assaults inexplicably stopped.

000

Harry approached the pitch and a warm happy contentedness washed over him. The scars on his back were transitioning from painful to achy to cold to warm and were starting to feel almost pleasant. _‘He must be watching from close today.’_ Harry thought with a smile.

But his good mood was short lived. As he rounded the corner around the stands and walked onto the pitch he saw most of the team standing stock still and watching the stands behind him raptly. Harry turned to see what everyone was looking at and his stomach plummeted. McLaggen was pummeling Malfoy and everyone was just standing there and watching.

Without thinking Harry mounted his broom and was up in the stands in seconds. He tore McLaggen off of Malfoy and didn’t bother to make sure he was okay as he tumbled down the bleachers. He was staring at Malfoy, _‘At Draco.’_ He mentally corrected himself.

The blond was lying diagonally across the bleachers at what had to be a fiercely uncomfortable angle, with the corner of the seat digging into his back. His arms were covering his face defensively while his legs were scrunched up ready to kick out. Harry wanted to reach out and help him up, but he was afraid of getting kicked. Draco hadn’t seemed to notice that he was no longer being struck at. Then again Harry wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Maybe it had only been a couple seconds.

Draco lowered his arms and his eyes widened slightly at the sight of Harry. That was all the invitation Harry needed, he rushed forward and grabbed Draco’s arms to help him up.

Draco flinched and Harry realized belatedly that his arms were probably bruised from absorbing all the blows.

“I’m sorry.” Harry whispered. But before the two had a chance to say anything else to each other Madame Hooch was upon them.

“Really boys! Fighting during practice. I expected better of you Mr. Potter.”

Harry couldn’t say what offended him more, the automatic assumption that he was fighting or the fact that she didn’t expect better from Draco.

“Potter wasn’t fighting me. That brute over there came over and attacked me for no reason.” Draco pointed at McLaggen who was looking dazed and was rising unsteadily to his feet.

“We’ll settle this down on the ground.” She responded curtly. “There are plenty of witnesses.”

‘ _Yeah, plenty of witnesses that I’m going to be soundly lecturing on why you don’t just stand idly by and watch while a classmate is being beat on.’_ Harry seethed.

When Harry got back down to the pitch he couldn’t tell who looked angrier, McLaggen or Ginny Weasley. McLaggen’s anger he could easily understand, after all, no one likes to get caught in the middle of bullying. However, Harry had no idea what had crawled up Ginny’s arse and he found to his surprise that he didn’t really care. He wanted to get this whole ordeal sorted so Draco could get to the hospital wing. Nothing else really mattered compared to that.

Madame Hooch interviewed McLaggen for his side of the story first and Harry took advantage of that distraction to check on Draco. He approached him with a singular focus and asked.

“Are you harmed?”

Draco rolled up his sleeves and exposed his forearms. His pale skin was plumed with purple bruises and Harry felt his stomach roil. He felt a sudden violent wish that he had shoved McLaggen harder, maybe hard enough to fall of the stands entirely.

The emotion was a flash and Harry felt immediately guilty for the thought, but the sense of righteous indignation that Draco had been harmed, that McLaggen had touched him remained.

“Mr. Potter.” Madame Hooch called to him and he realized that he had yet again allowed himself to become distracted with thoughts of Draco while in public.

‘ _I really need to rein that in if we want any hope of keeping this friendship a secret.’_ He chastised himself and turned to Madame Hooch attentively.

“What is your role in all of this?” She asked him.

“I walked onto the pitch and saw McLaggen beating up a defenseless student in the stands. I flew up and pulled him off. Malfoy wasn’t fighting back, he was just shielding himself.”

“My stomach is covered in bruises!” McLaggen interjected angrily.

“From defensive kicking no doubt.” Harry replied placidly, not even bothering to look at the enraged brute.

“Never the less, boys I’m afraid the school has a strict no fighting policy. All three of you will have detention tonight.”

Draco who had said nothing to Madame Hooch since they reached the pitch at last spoke.

“You’re giving Potter a detention for defending me?” His voice dripped with outrage and Harry’s stomach gave an involuntary flip that it was on his behalf.

“Oh, like you care! You love it when Harry gets stuck in detention because of you.” Ginny accused.

Draco shot her a venomous glare that would have done Lucius proud and replied scathingly, “Even I’m not such a prat as to want someone to have a detention for pulling an assailant off of me. It sets a pretty bad precedent for me if people get punish for trying to halt violence against me. So yes, while historically I would relish the opportunity to be the cause of wonder boy getting stuck in detention in this particular instance I think we can all agree it is rather undeserved.”

“I don’t bloody agree!” McLaggen yelled.

Harry replied this time. “Since you’re the obvious aggressor in this conflict I don’t think anyone really cares what your opinion on the matter is. It was foolish of me to even ask you here tonight. Clearly you lack the mental stability to even manage the lesser responsibility of being the team’s RESERVE keeper. Though I suppose it's good that I’m learning that now during a practice rather than during a game. I will be sure to find someone else to fill your place.”

“You can’t do that!” McLaggen spat.

“Can’t I?” Harry pointed at his badge. “I believe I’m team captain and I think assaulting spectators is a perfectly valid reason to dismiss you from the team.”

“But but…” McLaggen sputtered. “He tried to kill you. He made you fall off your broom. I saw his note.”

“Your concern is touching,” Harry cold voice intoned. “but I assure you when I fell off my broom it was a result of my own negligence and was in no way part of some nefarious Malfoy plot. I would appreciate it if people would refrain from attacking others on my behalf. I have enough burdens to bear without people self-righteously committing acts of violence in my name.” Harry’s eyes flashed in anger and the whole team fell into silence.

“Practice is cancelled today.” Harry added. “McLaggen and Malfoy obviously need to go to the hospital wing and the rest of you could obviously use some time to sort out your priorities in life if you honestly think its okay to sit back and not interfere when someone is being assaulted in front of you.”

“But his father is a death eater.” Ginny was the only one brave even to speak.

“I don’t care is his father is bloody Voldemort! He is still a student of this school and you are still Gryffindors. We are better than this.” Harry stormed off not waiting to learn if his detention was retracted. If it wasn’t than he would appeal the decision to McGonagal because Draco was right, there was a principal being set here.

Students needed to know that they could intervene and they could defend each other without fear of bringing punishment onto themselves, and Harry sure as hell wasn’t going to be the reason that a precedent was set that said that it was okay to attack Draco Malfoy. If Harry had anything to say about it no one would ever DARE to touch Draco again.


	16. Vengeful Veela

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The urge to protect goes both ways.

Author notes:  
_Italicized words are character thoughts_  
**_Italicized & boldfaced words are dream sequences or memories_**  
**Boldfaced words are in text reading materials (like books or letters)**  
000 Represents a shift in character perspective  
0~0~0 Represents a shift in scene (often followed by the date the new scene takes place if it is on a different day than the prior scene)

Chapter 16: Vengeful Veela

Tuesday, 2/04/1997

The walk to the hospital wing was intensely uncomfortable as Draco and McLaggen maintained a terse silence in Madame Hooch's wake. Neither wanted to risk a second detention by continuing their dispute, especially as neither of them felt she had sided with them.

Draco was still put out that Madame Hooch hadn’t officially retracted Harry’s detention, but he intended to say something to Madame Pomfrey about the incident. He trusted that she would recognize defensive wounds when she saw them and knowing that Harry was his mate she would better understand the protective urge that must have compelled Harry to fly to his defense.

Draco felt his insides warm at the memory. Harry’s flushed cheeks, his intense rage filled eyes for once aimed for him instead of at him, the satisfyingly crumpled form of McLaggen’s body after Harry cast him off to the bottom of the bleachers, the indignant glare the rest of the Gryffindor team shot at him when Harry took HIS side.

Draco felt his cock twitch and he bit back a smile. _‘I must save these remembrances for later.’_ He chided himself. It wouldn’t be good if he entered hospital wing looking smug and it would be even worse if he appeared aroused. Seeming pleased that one of his fellow students was very likely concussed would not endear Madame Pomfrey to him and he WOULD get Harry out of this detention.

 _‘Because I don’t want him to regret sticking up to the Gryffindorks for me.’_ He admitted to himself. He knew what a big step it was that Harry had defended him against fellow Gryffindors and he wasn’t going to have that progress bollocksed up by an unjust detention.

As they neared the hospital wing McLaggen hunched his back and held his stomach in an exaggerated pantomime of pain that made Draco roll his eyes. Either the boy hadn’t spent enough time in the hospital wing before or he was an idiot. Madame Pomfrey had decades of healing experience and Draco had no doubts that she would see through McLaggen's pitiful act. Draco had learned that the hard way back in third year when he had tried to ham up his Hippogriff injury.

 _‘Though in my defense back when I was milking it I at least started out properly injured.’_ Draco mentally defended himself against his own comparison and then snorted at himself at the ridiculousness of arguing WITH HIMSELF over the relative ethics of lying to medi-witches.

 _‘Potter’s insanity might be rubbing off on me.’_ He thought almost fondly as they entered the Hospital Wing.

Draco carefully wiped all traces of amusement from his features as they came under Madame Pomfrey’s diagnostic scrutiny.

In true Pomfrey form she didn’t bother asking how they had gotten their injuries as she made her initial inspection of their bodies. Decades of teaching students must have taught her that people often lie while wounds rarely do. As always, her conclusions were spot on.

“Mr. Malfoy has defensive bruising on his forearms.” She concluded.

“My stomach is covered in bruises!” McLaggen demanded. Madame Pomfrey turned an accusatory glare at him.

“And where might I ask were your arms while you were sustaining those stomach bruises. I notice that they are completely unmarred.”

“He was kicking me!” McLaggen avoided her question but she wasn’t put off.

“I can see that your stomach was kicked. What I’m asking is where your arms were. Surely you weren’t just letting him kick you unimpeded?” She querried.

“I was trying to block his feet.” McLaggen answered less certainly.

“Yet your arms have no bruising or abrasions from deflecting his feet?”

McLaggen opened his mouth to answer, but then seemed to realize he had no retort to her latest inquiry.

Madame Pomfrey turned to Madame Hooch.

“Did you witness any of the confrontation?”

“No, I came up as Mr. Potter was casting Mr. McLaggen down onto the bleachers.”

“Mr. Potter is involved in this?” Madame Pomfrey asked with a quick curious glance in Draco’s direction.

“Yes, I gave all three boys detention to be fair.” Madame Hooch confirmed.

“Har- Potter was just defending me!” Draco finally saw his chance to chime in. “He saw McLaggen assaulting me and he pulled him off. He wasn’t part of the fight. It wasn’t even a fight I was just there to watch the practice and HE” Draco pointed at McLaggen. “attacked me for no reason!”

“You have no business watching our practice you cheat!” McLaggen spat at him.

Suddenly a flash of epiphany seem to flare in Madame Pomfrey’s eyes and for the first time Draco found himself glad that a few members of staff knew of his connection to Potter. She understood what had happened. She would make it right.

“I believe Mr. Malfoy’s account, Rolanda.” Madame Pomfrey said to Madame Hooch. “His defensive injuries coupled with the selective nature Mr. McLaggen’s and your own corroboration that you saw Mr. Potter casting Mr. McLaggen off of Mr. Malfoy is all consistent with his claim that he was attacked and was kicking out self-defensively. Given these circumstances I don’t think it appropriate to punish Mr. Malfoy or Mr. Potter for the defending themselves or a fellow student.” Madame Pomprey countered with a scolding tone.

Madame Hooch looked duly chastised.

“Of course not. When I saw the three boys I just assumed… there such bad blood between the two teams… I should have known though, Mr. Potter’s uncharacteristic defense of Mr. Malfoy ought to have cottoned me on. Given these new facts I absolutely agree, in a matter of defense detention is not appropriate.” Hooch almost babbled under Madame Pomprey’s scrutiny. Hooch deflected the attention onto the aggressor and all eyes turned to Mr. McLaggen.

“Cormac, I am all the more disappointed in you however.” Madame Hooch continued with greater confidence in her moral standing. “While I always disapprove of fighting between players, as it is the worse sort of poor sportsmanship, I am even more offended by one-sided assault. I find your excuse for attacking Mr. Malfoy absurd. The pitch is a common area for all of the houses. Anyone can watch team practices. Quidditch is, after all, a spectator sport! You will have a week’s detention with me, polishing and trimming the school brooms by hand without magic!”

Draco’s heart leapt. True he thought polishing brooms a paltry punishment for the aggravated assault of a fellow student, but it was for a week! AND he and Harry were off scot-free! _‘Definitely a victory!’_

“You seem to have things well in hand Poppy…” Madame Hooch’s voice trailed off. Draco was struck with the sudden realization that Madame Hooch wasn’t comfortable in the Hospital wing and the thought that he should have noticed that before considering all the times his teammates had found themselves here with quidditch injuries and she either hadn’t accompanied them or hadn’t stuck around. _‘An insightful revelation, none the less.’_ He mused. 

As Madame Hooch left Pomfrey turned on them again. She looked at them both appraisingly.

“It would take me ages to heal each of your bruises individually. You stay here and I’m going to go fetch some bruise balm.” She looked at them both sternly. “I expect the two of you to behave yourselves in my absence.”

Finally left to themselves Draco took in the ward for the first time since they had entered. It was surprisingly empty. They were the only two patients.

“Where’s Weasley?” Draco found himself asking before it occurred to him that he and Cormac weren’t exactly on speaking terms.

McLaggen snorted indignantly in clear indication that he hadn’t forgotten their hostilities, but Draco wasn’t one to be so easily ignored.

“You are the RESERVE keeper, or at least you WERE. Either way your presence at practice is superfluous unless something is wrong with the weasel. So where is he?” Draco looked around the room in an exaggerated manner.

“Potter is a shite captain and a nepotistic fool. I’m twice the keeper Ron EVER was and they’d have seen that if he’d put the team above his blatant favoritism toward his friends.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question. If he’s too injured to play why isn’t he in the hospital wing?”

McLaggen glared at Draco but answered, “He’s not injured, he idiotically ate some shoddy love potion and went and got himself poisoned.”

“Who in their right mind would give the Weasel a love potion? Surely not Granger.” McLaggen’s face ticked. “No, even she wouldn’t have botched a simple love potion. Though it doesn’t speak much for the taste of girls in this school if there would be even two contenders for his favor.”

“He wishes he had Hermione.” McLaggen retorted looking affronted at the notion Hermione fancying Ron. “The potion wasn’t even for him. He ate it out of the bin, like a dog.”

“Someone left love potion in the trash?” _‘Merlin! Do Gryffindors know nothing about potions? You can’t just bin an unwanted potion!’_ Draco thought snidely.

“I suppose your hero can’t be bothered to properly dispose of his many rejected offerings. He is disgustingly popular, after all. Especially since the Slug Club invites went out. All the slags of Gryffindor are just gagging to go with him.” He pulled a face. “All for his fame of course. I’d almost feel bad for him if he wasn’t such a prat about it. Totally oblivious, he doesn’t even seem to notice the flirting. He probably only checks his food because of Granger. Not that he cares enough to make sure other people don’t get sucked into the traps laid for him. Though I don’t suppose even he thought anyone would be uncouth enough to eat chocolate out of the garbage. Ugh, I’m disgusted that I have to sit idly by while someone that stupid takes my rightful place on the team.” McLaggen finished with intense derision.

Madame Pomfrey returned then and Draco was spared having to give any response to the alarming information that McLaggen had just imparted, which was probably for the better since there was nothing he could think to say about Harry facing constant love potion attacks that wouldn’t have tipped McLaggen off on the fact that there was something off about the relationship between him and Harry.

Mercifully Pomfrey tended his bruises first. He barely noticed her clinical application of the balm. His mind was shorting out with the knowledge that Harry had almost died, again. When she finished he had just enough presence of mind to give her a perfunctory thanks before he fled the hospital room before his barely suppressed rage could be perceived by McLaggen.

0~0~0

Harry stormed into the team locker room. He knew he wasn’t fit to face his house mates just yet. At least not if he wanted to avoid unwanted questions.

His adrenaline was racing through his veins and his skin almost seemed to itch. Draco was hurt. He was injured and Harry couldn’t be with him. It took all of Harry’s self control not to storm up to the Hospital Wing. The common sense side of him knew that Draco was fine. That he just had some superficial bruising and that Pomprey would have him good as new in seconds, but the bond didn’t operate on common sense.

The image of Draco being wailed on by McLaggen seemed to be etched into his eyelids. Draco’s look of unabashed relief when their eyes met. The warm surge of protectiveness Harry had felt when he saw Draco’s bruises. Harry was overwhelmed by the most absurd urge to hunt Draco down and hold him.

 _‘It’s just the bond.’_ Harry mentally chanted to himself as he paced back and forth across the locker room. _‘Don’t be weird and ruin everything.’_ Harry knew that their truce was too young to withstand the awkwardness of random hug attacks. Though they had agreed that they would be open with each other about their symptoms Harry didn’t really want the focus of their first symptom exchange conversation to be Harry’s irrational need to embrace him. Frankly that was a conversation he wouldn’t mind avoiding full stop.

 _‘Next time I see him he will be fine. Once the bond knows that he is okay it will stop nagging at me. I just need to distract myself until enough time has passed that I can find Draco and fix this.’_ Harry consoled himself.

Looking around the locker room Harry was disappointed, though unsurprised, to find nothing very distraction worthy. He decided his best bet was to take a shower and change back into his normal day clothes. He wasn’t as sweaty as he normally was after practice, but at least a shower would explain his absence if any of his teammates got nosy when he returned to the common room later.

When the warm water hit his back Harry was immediately reminded of his shower in the Room of Requirement and his face instantly flushed at the memory. Draco saw him. Draco was watching. Unbidden Harry’s hand grabbed his cock and he bit back a groan on contact.

 _‘Well this is one way to distract myself.’_ Harry thought to himself sheepishly. Strangely the bond didn’t seem to be fighting the change in focus.

Harry wondered if Draco had watched him the whole time or if he had just seen what Harry was doing and then left him to his privacy. _‘Did he like watching me?’_ Harry closed his eyes and pretended that he was back in the Room of Requirement. He touched himself in just the same way pretending that all the while Draco was watching him, wanting him, wishing he could join him. Harry remembered Draco’s admission that he used the Room for wanking too.

“Fuck.” Harry moaned aloud as a wave of pleasure crested over him. In his mind Draco was touching himself. Rubbing his arousal through his clothes as he watch Harry through the bathroom doorway. “Ughn.” Harry tried to muffle the sounds of his pleasure. Heaven forbid someone should hear him wanking off to Malfoy in the Gryffindor locker room.

Harry imagined Draco approaching still disillusioned. Joining Harry under the torrent of the shower. Harry’s gasp of surprised caught in his invisible kiss. Harry’s free hand clenching into Draco’s drenched robe while Draco’s hands slipped across his shower slicked back. Teasing his Veela marks with tantalizingly soft touches.

Harry gripped himself hard and pretend that Draco’s hand had joined his own, stroking him to climax. Only the last shreds of Harry’s good sense kept him from calling out Draco’s name as he came explosively against the tiled locker room shower.

 _‘I've got to stop doing this.’_ Harry cursed himself. _‘There’s no point in me even bothering with the dreamless sleep if I’m going to indulge in these fantasies when I’m awake anyway.’_ Harry ruffled his sodden hair and tried not to overly analyze what it meant that he was willing having these thoughts. He finished cleaning himself and the shower off and he dressed as quickly as he could. _‘I need to find Malfoy and deal with this Veela nonsense.’_

No sooner did Harry have that thought than he spotted his wayward friend sitting by himself by the Great Lake. Thankful that they would be able to have their meeting outside the earshot of their nosy peers Harry happily changed his course to Draco.

000

Draco knew he couldn’t stay in the castle. Not if he wanted to maintain any pretense that he was normal. His nails had elongated and he had to ungracefully shove them into his robe pockets to hide their talon like appearance, he knew without needing to see a mirror that his rage was sharpening his facial features and he couldn’t allow himself to be seen like this. Thankfully since he was already on the ground floor he was able to make it out onto the grounds without being seen.

Dusk was falling and brisk winter air billowed around him. But he didn’t even feel the chill his Veela powers and his seething rage burned from him within. His nails itched to tear into the one who had tried to harm Harry.

His mind could barely string together complete sentences as his overwhelming need to protect and claim overrode his ability to calmly parse out the information that Harry was under frequent love potion attacks.

 _‘MINE! TRIED TO SEDUCE MY MATE! ALMOST POISONED MY MATE! COULD HAVE KILLED MY MATE!’_ Draco reeled with the sudden strength of his emotions and he collapsed onto his knees beside the Great Lake. The thought of Harry dying left him dry heaving and choking on the frigid air that he forced into his lungs. His nails burrowed into the frozen soil and tore up patches of dead grass, which he threw into the lake in unabated rage.

Draco felt Harry before he saw him.

“Having fun?” The familiar voice asked from behind him. Even in his blind rage Draco didn’t miss the tinge of amusement in his mate’s query. “I’m going to take it from your violent landscaping of the school grounds that you weren’t able to have the detentions overturned?”

Draco turned around and glared at his mate. Harry flinched at the intensity of Draco’s stare.

“Why didn’t you tell me that people were trying to poison you?”Draco demanded.

“What? Oh, you mean the love potion?” Harry asked.

“YES! I mean the love potion. How could you have failed to mention that to me? We are supposed to be helping each other!” Draco snapped.

“Sorry, I just didn’t think it was relevant. It doesn’t have anything to do with our bond.”Harry answered.

“It has everything to do with our bond!” Draco practically yelled at him. “You are mine! Other people trying to enchant you with love potions is most assuredly my business!”

Harry’s eyes narrowed and Draco knew he has said the wrong thing.

“You don’t own me!” Harry practically growled in response.

Draco sighed, his rage at Harry’s attacker subsiding now that his unharmed mate was standing before him again.

“Sorry. Veela stuff.” Draco pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to calm himself. He knew he was only going to have one chance to rephrase his reaction into something Harry would find less offensive.

“Look, earlier today you defended me right?” Harry nodded and Draco continued. “You didn’t just do that because you're a Gryffindor or because it was the right thing to do. I saw your eyes. In that brief moment your instincts had kicked in. When you saw my bruises I saw the way you looked at McLaggen. This is like that. Someone tried to hurt you. My instincts want to protect you. It’s all a part of the bond and if today is any indicator the protection instincts seem to be mutual. I’m sorry I overreacted but when it comes to stuff like this you need to be honest with me. It’s better that I learn someone tried to seduce you from your own mouth than from some third party who you and I don’t want to learn about our bond. Promise me that if this happens again you’ll tell me.” Draco finished almost plaintively.

“Okay. I’m sorry too. It was my fault you got beat up today. Then as soon as you're out of the Hospital Wing I’m snapping at you because you’re worried about me. Sorry.”

Draco smiled at him and held out his hand.

“Friends?” Harry took his hand and a spark of warmth shot up their forearms. Harry pulled him into a one armed hug and replied. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

And in that moment Draco was.


	17. A Promising Partnership

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's got a plan to protect Harry from unscrupulous whores. And a surprise classroom switch up is about to force the two boys to spend a lot more time together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't as long as I was originally planning. It is only 2 scenes when I was intending for it to be 4. The other two scenes will be lumped into the next chapter whenever that is released. I have been so busy with school and work that that chapter is just obscenely overdue so I decided it would be better to release a short chapter than to make you all wait even longer.

Author notes:  
_Italicized words are character thoughts_  
_**Italicized & boldfaced words are dream sequences or memories**_  
**Boldfaced words are in text reading materials (like books or letters)**  
000 Represents a shift in character perspective  
0~0~0 Represents a shift in scene (often followed by the date the new scene takes place if it is on a different day than the prior scene)

Tuesday, 2/04/1997

Draco watched Harry walk away wistfully. His inner Veela practically purred at the memory of Harry's valiant defense of him and he was pleased that Harry had accepted his own protective urges. The way Harry had pulled Draco into his arms, even if it was just an innocent reassuring hug made Draco feel warm inside and gave him hope that maybe this bond thing really could work out.

While the hug induced bubble of happiness succeeded in quelling his immediate rage, Draco’s protective urges were by no means suppressed. Draco wasn't about to forget the whole love potion business, however much Harry might prefer he did, and he wasn't going to sit back and do nothing while up start strumpets were trying to seduce/ poison his mate. Thankfully Draco knew just the thing to resolve this problem without resorting to bloodshed. After all, Harry wouldn’t approve of violence.

He had a letter to write.

0~0~0

**Dear Mother,**   
**I understand that Severus has kept you apprised of goings on here at school and of my health and welfare. As such my following request will likely not catch you by surprise. I’m sure you remember the family stories that Grandmama Rosier used to tell me when I was a child. Enclosed is a lock of my hair. I would very much appreciate it if you would do me the great favor of commissioning a Cupid’s Cure talisman for me. I feel it necessary to protect my interests and the future of our family. Many thanks and much love.**   
**Your Son,**   
**Draco Malfoy**

Draco reread the letter and nodded to himself, content that his wording was sufficiently clear as to not confuse his mother yet also vague enough that anyone intercepting it wouldn’t understand its contents. Cupid’s Cure was an invention specific the the Veela of his family and wouldn’t be known to others so he felt safe naming it explicitly. He only hoped that his mother would pick up on the subtext suggesting that he had initiated a bond.

He wanted to take his mother into his confidence, but he couldn’t trust whoever else might read the letter. Especially not with the Dark Lord living in their home and, if Snape’s suspicions were true, having nefarious aspirations for Draco’s Veela abilities.

The Dark Lord would be furious if he learned that Draco had bonded. No, he would have to settle for vague letters until he could speak to his mother in person. With a sigh he sealed up the letter and made the long trek back up to the owlrey. This letter was too important to wait until morning.

0~0~0

Wednesday 2/05/1997

As Harry made his way down to the dungeons for potions his stomach fluttered in nervous anticipation. His mind kept reverting back to the moment yesterday when he had taken Draco in his arms, brief though it was, and the contentment he had felt.

He wasn’t sure how he was going to face Draco today. Would it be weird? Had they crossed some unspoken boundary in their truce. Or was he reading to much into this because of the naughty fantasy and follow-up wank he had personally had just before their lakeside moment. So many questions. No answers. Faster than Harry was able to ready himself the potions classroom came into sight and outside waiting was Draco.

Harry couldn’t help but drink him in. The silky blond tendrils of hair artfully disheveled and ungelled today gently swept across his perfect forehead. Draco as if feeling his gaze looked up. Harry’s heart stuttered for a moment as their eyes met. When Draco smiled and Harry had to suppress a sigh of relief. Everything was okay. ‘It’s not weird. It doesn’t have to be weird.’ He chanted in his head as he made his way over to the Gryffindor side of the hallway to wait for Slughorn to arrive and let them in.

He and Draco weren’t the first to arrive, but he had barely noticed the others until he had to find a free spot on the wall. Of course once he was amongst them everyone wanted to talk about yesterdays drama on the pitch. He wished they weren’t there. He wanted to talk to Draco. To ask if he felt okay and to talk to him about yesterday and the way the bond was affecting them. Unfortunately he couldn’t do or say any of that with such a mixed audience. It would have to wait. Harry was relieved when Slughorn’s corpulent belly made it’s way around the bend. At least once they were in the classroom people would stop trying to talk to him.

“Okay class, take your seats. I’d like everyone to start by pulling out the syllabus that I gave you in September because today we are going to be making a few changes. One of your fellow classmates,” Here Slughorn looked meaningfully at Hermione. “has brought it to my attention the the curriculum as it currently stands doesn’t prepare students to brew potions in bulk. This simply will not do. If any of you do decide to pursue the noble craft of potioneering you will not be brewing potions in single doses. You will need to know how to adapt recipes and brewing methods to brew bulk orders for your customers. This is such an important oversight that I have decided to shift my curriculum plans for the rest of the semester. I feel a bit bad for the 7th years as they will miss out on this important lesson, but as they are studying for their NEWTs I really can’t risk going off script with them. I will be teaching you how to calculate the recipe adaptations and you will all be brewing one potion in bulk as a longterm project with a partner.”

When he mentioned that the project would have partners there was a sudden flurry of activity throughout the room as people attempted to catch the eye of those who they wished to partner with.

“Settle down, settle down everyone. These partnership as well as the potions brewed are going to be assigned by myself. Looking at your scores from last semester I am pairing you with someone who is at a similar level of proficiency to you and I will be assigning you a potion based on the challenge level that I believe you can handle. Now when I call your name please come up and recieve your potions assignment and instructions. When you return to your seats I would like you to sit with your assigned partners as today we will be working on the theory aspect of this project.”

“Hermione Granger, Blaise Zabini”

Harry watched as Hermione was called up to the front of the room and wondered with trepidation who he was going to be paired with. He knew that thanks to the half-blood Prince’s book that Slughorn had an inflated opinion of his potion skills. He zoned out contemplating it until his own name pulled him from his reverie.

“Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy” Harry gulped. He was full of conflicting feelings. One the one hand this would provide an excellent excuse for him to spend more time with Draco without arousing the suspicion of his peers. It could even explain them coming to a truce of sorts so that they wouldn’t have to keep up the constant charade of animosity. But on the other hand was it really a good thing to be spending even more time with Draco. It was what the bond obviously wanted, but did he really want to follow the dictates of this unasked for bond? He felt so confused.

A glance at Draco as they approached Slughorns desk from opposite sides of the room gave him no indication of Draco’s feelings. His face was a mask of pure indifference. Harry wondered how it was Slytherins pulled that off and felt a bit jealous for a moment as he knew wearing his emotions on his sleeve had gotten him into dire straits more than once.

“Boys you have both shown great promise in my class so I would like to challenge you. I’m assigning the two of you the Polyjuice potion. You will remember that it is one of the potions that we discussed on the first day of class. The Polyjuice potion is a tricky one for a project like this since it has such a long brew cycle. It takes 28 days to brew and it has to be started at a specific time in the lunar cycle. This means of course that if you make a mistake you will likely have to wait the better part of a month to start over. As there are only 4 months left of term… well there in lies the challenge. I have every confidence in your combined success. Mr. Malfoy here has shown an impressive understanding of potions theory in his essays and Mr. Potter, of course, has wowed me with his brewing prowess. Best of luck boys. I have high hopes for the two of you.”

The two boys exchanged looks, but refrained from saying anything in the earshot of their teacher. They took seats together at Draco’s table whee he had previously been sitting alone and Draco leaned in and whispered.

“He’s certainly singing a different tune now that I’m Veela. I wasn’t even worthy of a Slug Party invite before and now I’m one of his best two students. Pfft.” Draco rolled his eyes derisively.

“You’ve always been one of his best students, he was just blinded by his distaste for your father’s allegiances which was unfair to you. At least you are getting the recognition you deserve now.” Harry placated him.

Draco quirked an eyebrow. “And what about you?”

“Me. Oh, his accolades to me are entirely undeserved. I’ve only been doing so well because I’ve been following alternative hand written instructions that the previous owner of my textbook wrote into the margins.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, the previous owner of my book was some kind of potions wiz and almost every recipe in the book is littered with his annotations on ways that the recipe or procedure can be improved.”

“But you are still following these instructions?” Draco asked.

“Yeah…” Harry droned out the word since he didn’t know where Draco was going with this.

Draco sighed and looked at Harry a bit condescendingly. “These instructions, would you say that they are easier or harder than the normal ones?”

Harry thought about it for a moment. “That’s a tricky question, I mean sometimes the instructions make it easier like when for the Draught of Living Death it suggested using a silver knife and crushing the beans rather than cutting them. Most the time though it involves extra ingredients or more complicated stirring patterns.”

“So these new recipes have more ingredients that you have to keep track of, successfully prepare, and add at just the right moment?”

“Yeah…” Harry still didn’t get where Draco was going with this and Draco was starting to look a bit frustrated.

“And the instructions for brewing have more steps that are more complicated and require greater precision?” Harry just nodded this time. Draco sighed. “What about any of that would make you think you are bad at potions. You just admitted that for the past school year you have purposely and consistently been perfectly executing potions recipes that are EVEN HARDER than the ones the rest of us have been using. If anything that makes my respect for your potions ability go up a notch. Now granted the fact that you are just following instructions rather than actually appreciating the nuances of why the adaptation is a better recipe is something that we will have to work on because you can never be a great potioneer if you don’t understand why ingredients interact with one another, but still just being able to perfectly execute complex brewing instructions is still something to be proud of.”

“Hermione considers it cheating.”

Draco rolled his eyes again. “She would wouldn’t she. I can’t think she was very pleased being bested by you after years of being the best brewer in Gryffindor. Why is that anyway? Your potions have always been abysmal in the past.”

“Snape hates me so I’ve never really bothered to give his class my all since I knew he would just fail me anyway. Slughorn doesn’t share that prejudice and Dumbledore specifically asked me to impress Slughorn this year.”

“Why would you need to do that?” Harry couldn’t help but find Draco incredulous look a bit adorable but he tried to stifle his growing sentimentality.

Harry glanced around the room. “We really shouldn’t talk about this here. Besides we should be looking up the Polyjuice potion and figuring out this project.” Draco nodded in acceptance of the brush off.

The boys spent the rest of class working on their potion theory and made plans for the evening to meet in the room of requirement to plan out a schedule for their project. Harry couldn’t quite quell the excited flutter he felt in his stomach at the thought of spending the evening alone with Draco, but he tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I included the bit about Harry's potions ability because it has always annoyed me that Hermione accused Harry of cheating when he was in fact successfully brewing a recipe that was even more complicated than the one she was.


	18. Cupid's Cure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco's protective urges resurface as dangers imagined and real draw them together.

**_Sunlight glinted golden off of Draco’s windswept hair._ **

**_“I’m glad we decided to fly together, I’ve always wanted to. During games when we’re competing against each other it’s intense. But this… just flying, it was nice...”_ **

**_Draco blushed as his words trailed off in embarrassment. The color to his cheeks added to the mussed hair gave him a just shagged look that almost made Harry groan._ **

**_Harry pulled at his own hair in a futile attempt to distract himself from his inappropriate desire to toss Draco’s broom away and snog him senseless._ **

**_“My team will be here soon… for practice.” Harry said. He regretted it immediately as Draco’s face fell and the wonderful flush of warm emotions faded away._ **

**_“I guess I should go watch from a distance then.” Draco said as he attempted to shoulder his way past Harry. Harry stopped him as he tried to walk past._ **

**_“Wait, that’s not what I meant. I just.” Harry sighed. “I didn’t know if you’d want to stick around, after what happened last time.” Draco’s look softened. “I’d love it if you stayed. Maybe afterward we could fly again or whatever.”_ **

**_“Or whatever?” Draco drawled with a quirked eyebrow._ **

**_Harry flushed. “I just meant we could hang out or something.” Harry mumbled._ **

**_“Hmmm,” Draco step closer into Harry’s personal space bringing his face scant inches away from Harry’s. “I might like that.”_ **

**_Harry gulped but didn’t back away. He would never be the one to back away first, especially not from Malfoy._ **

**_“Good. Well, I guess I’ll see you after then?” Harry asked weakly._ **

**_Draco closed the distance between them, gently pressing his lips against Harry’s._ **

**_“I’ll be waiting.” He said to a still shell shocked Harry before disappearing under the stands._ **

**_(dream shift)_ **

**_“Alright team, that was a great practice! If we play like that against Hufflepuff we’ll trounce them!” Harry encouraged his team as they all dismounted onto the pitch._ **

**_Harry’s eyes roved around the stands looking for a certain blond with confused anticipation but the stands were empty. Harry tried to quell the immediate feeling of foreboding that came with this observation. ‘He’s probably already waiting for me on the ground’ Harry tried to reassure himself as he made his way over to the base to the stands where Draco had impromptu kissed him before practice._ **

**_“Draco?” He called out, not too loudly as his teammates would be able to hear him if he yelled. He received no response and the sense of dread deepened._ **

**_“Draco!” He called out again, loudly this time. Still nothing._ **

**_“DRACO!” He yelled finally, no longer caring if his teammates heard him. When even that garnered no response Harry began running under the stands._ **

**_While it was true that Draco could be standing him up he felt in his gut that that wasn’t the case. The way Draco had looked at him before practice, the gentle parting kiss. Harry refused to believe that Draco was messing with him. He had to be here. There had to be a reason he wasn’t answering Harry’s increasingly frantic yells of DRACO and Harry had a feeling that he wasn’t going to like the reason._ **

**_When Harry had nearly come full circle and had run around almost the whole of the quidditch pitch he finally heard something. With the sound of his feet pounding on the grass and his blood pulsing he almost missed it, but when he stopped and quieted himself he heard a subtle distressed gurgling._ **

**_“Draco?” He asked again, fearfully as he approached the gurgling sound under the nearest set of stands._ **

**_Behind the stands, nearly hidden by the flapping flag of Hufflepuff lie Draco, in a pool of his own blood, motionless save for his ragged breathing._ **

**_Harry ran to his prone body, hovering unsure of what to do. Harry was sure that he had heard somewhere that you should never move an injured body. Something about spinal injuries, Harry couldn’t quite remember. But Draco was face down in the dirt, his arms obviously broken in a futile attempt to break his fall. Harry could see that Draco was struggling to pull air into his lungs. ‘Were they punctured?’ Harry wondered frantically._ **

**_“I don’t know how to help you.” Harry admitted aloud. “Tell me what to do?” He added desperately._ **

**_Draco managed to raise his head slightly, coughing up more blood with the effort. “Stay.” He coughed out._ **

**_“Stay?” Harry looked around them at the growing pool of blood and shook his head. “Draco you need help, real medical help. I can’t… this is way beyond anything I can fix.”_ **

**_Draco shook his head._ **

**_“Too late.” He choked out. “Infirmary is too far… stay with me.”_ **

**_Harry’s eyes burned and tears he didn’t know he had been holding back burst forth. “What do you meant too late. I’m not going to just sit here and let you die!”_ **

**_Draco laid his head back on the ground as if the effort of holding it up was too much for him. “I don’t want to die alone.” He admitted quietly, but Harry heard him._ **

**_Harry’s fist clenched and unclenched as he tried to process how things had gone so wrong so fast._ **

**_“You were fine, everything was fine. What happened? Who did this?”_ **

**_Draco had another coughing fit spilling more blood onto the ground. “McLaggen pushed me.” He answered once he had his breath._ **

**_Harry saw red, but he forced himself to bite back his anger. There would be time for revenge later now he needed to help Draco._ **

**_“Shhh…” Harry tried to sooth Draco as yet another round of painful coughs wracked his broken body. “I need to get you to the hospital.”_ **

**_“There’s no point.” Draco sighed sounding defeated and tired._ **

**_“Can’t you just heal yourself again? Like in the bathroom?”_ **

**_Draco shook his head. “Too much damage, in the bathroom it was just blood loss, I have internal damage from the fall. If you try to move me…” He let his words drift off._ **

**_Harry shook his head unwilling to believe that there was nothing he could do._ **

**_“There must be something I can do for you?” Harry almost begged._ **

**_“Stay.” He repeated tiredly, his eyes half lidded as though he lacked the energy to keep them open anymore._ **

**_“NO! DRACO stay with me!” Harry yelled and grabbed his hand. But Draco gave no further response. His silver eyes still partially open stared on lifelessly while Harry cried._ **

Harry sat up abruptly, tears on his face, and looked around him confused. Everything was blurry and he realized that he wasn’t wearing his glasses. He fumbled around himself and found them next to him on his nightstand.

Once he put them on he recognized his surroundings immediately. He was in the Gryffindor 6th year boys dorms. It was all a dream, a terrible terrible dream. He regretted giving up the dreamless sleep potion.

He had the irrational urge to seek out Draco, to make sure that he was okay. A quick tempus showed him that it was barely 3am and he thought better of it. He would see Draco tomorrow. Draco would be fine. It was just a stupid dream. Harry would make sure it never became a reality.

  
0~0~0

  
The next morning Draco made his way down to breakfast in the Great Hall unaware that he had tragically featured in Harry’s dreams the night before. As such he was caught by surprise when a few corridors away from the Hall he was unexpected pulled into a disused classroom by a seemingly invisible assailant.

  
He was about to scream when his attacker suddenly materialized before him as a disheveled and even more tired looking than usual Harry.

  
“Are you not sleeping again?” Was the first thing out of his mouth. Draco wanted to kick himself. Both for how much of a non-sequitur that remark was and how revealing such an observation in such a context was about his feelings.

  
Harry flushed. “It’s not like that. I had a nightmare last night is all. I couldn’t get back to sleep afterwards. That’s actually why I’m here.”  
“Because you wanted to take a nap in a dusty classroom with me?” Draco snarked.

  
Harry just rolled his eyes well used to Draco’s sarcasm by this point.

  
“My nightmare was about you. And while rationally I know that it was just a dream and I shouldn’t read into it…” Harry sighed deeply and paused for several seconds as though struggling to frame his thoughts into sensible words.

  
“This is an invisibility cloak.” He finally continued, waving his cloak for emphasis.

Draco shot him an unimpressed look. “Gee really. I wondered what that cloak shaped object of disillusionment was.” He replied heavy with sarcasm.

“It was my father’s. It’s a family heirloom actually.” Harry continued as if Draco hadn’t interrupted him. “I’d like you to wear it when you come to my practices. I don’t want you to get harassed or hurt just because you’re helping me. Please say you’ll wear it. It would give me peace of mind.”

“You’re giving me an invisibility cloak?” Draco asked incredulously.  
Harry shook his head.

“I’m trusting use with the use of a treasured family heirloom.” Harry corrected, but Draco smiled never the less.

“This cloak is important to you.” Draco surmised.

“It’s one of the only things of my father’s that I have.” Harry admitted.

“And you’re giving it to me?”

“I’m LOANING it to you.” Harry corrected, but he smiled anyway. “I don’t want you to get hurt. Please say you’ll wear it.”

Draco looked at the cloak dangling between them and grasped it gently with the reverence that such a gift deserved.

“If it will give you peace of mind I will wear it.” Draco replied simply. Harry seemed to immediately relax in relief and shot him a blinding smile.

“Good, great, well, I guess we both better go get breakfast, eh? Will I see you tonight?” Harry asked as he made his way toward the classroom door.

“Tonight?” Draco asked.

“You know potions stuff. We should really nail down our plan for how we are going to tackle the bulk polyjuice potion thing.”

“Right… of course, tonight at seven then?” Draco asked.

Harry offered him another blind smile. “See you then.” He said as he walked out the door.

Draco held the gifted cloak to his chest, his heart beating rapidly. _‘This is going better than I thought it would’_ Draco smiled to himself. Luna would be pleased.

Draco carefully folded the cloak and put it in his bag and made his way to the Great Hall. A quick glance showed Harry was already sitting at the Gryffindor table. Draco wondered absently how long Harry must have been waiting in that corridor for him to walk past and smiled again to himself.

As he sat down at the Slytherin table he spotted his mother’s majestic owl flying through the ornate windows. It wasn’t just a letter, it was a package.  
He opened it excitedly, uncaring if his uncharacteristic enthusiasm drew the attention of his dining neighbors.

 **Dearest Draco,**  
**Contrary to your expressed belief your recent missive and request have surprised me. However, I am not displeased. It is gratifying to know that even now as a near adult you still remember the lessons of your youth and a parent is always happy to feel that they are in the confidence of their child. I grieve for the unexpected struggles your sixth year has been plagued with and wish that I could be there for you in person, alas that is not possible. But as always I am happy to assist you in any way that I am able. Attached is the commissioned trinket you requested I acquire on your behalf. I hope you will forgive my presumption in ordering a set. I decided it would be better to be too prepared than not prepared enough and you know I would spare no expense in procuring your safety and happiness.**  
**With love always,**  
**Your Mother**

Draco’s chest warmed as he read his mother elegant missive, so heavily laden with secret messages. His mother was not displeased that he was a Veela, she had read between the lines of his own letter to her that he had a prospective mate, and she supported him despite the danger that this would bring upon the family if the Dark Lord were to learn of his bonding.

He sighed contentedly. He would open the parcel later. After all he already knew what it contained and his classmates really were too nosy for their own good.

He would give it to Harry tonight. A proper quid pro quo to Harry’s princely loan of his heirloom cloak.

0~0~0

Harry waited anxiously in the Room of Requirement for Draco to arrive. Even though he had seen Draco before breakfast and then again in DADA he still felt unsettled after his nightmare. What he really wanted to do was take Draco in his arms and hold him. Just listen to him breathing and feel his heartbeat, but honestly just thinking that was borderline creepy and whatever boundaries his weird relationship with Draco had he was pretty sure that would cross them.

“Stupid dreams, stupid bond, stupid urges.” He muttered to himself.

“Talking to yourself again I see.” Draco smirked as he walked into the room. Draco looked around amused that Harry had yet again summoned the room with the purple bed and the silver walls.

Harry flushed as he noticed Draco’s gaze.  
“I didn’t summon this room on purpose. I swear the room is rigged against me or something.

Draco chuckled. “No worries. I have no issue with this room. It’s quite comfortable.” He sat in one of the overstuffed chairs by the fire and singled for Harry to do the same.

Harry rolled his eyes. “How is it that you are the host when I’m the one who invited you here?” Harry asked jokingly.

“A Malfoy always oozes hospitality in whatever setting he finds himself.”

“Another on the endless list of unofficial Malfoy family mottos?” Harry teased.

Draco just smiled back. “You could say that. And while we are speaking of hospitality I have a gift for you.” Draco pulled out the parcel he received from his mother this morning and pushed it across the coffee table toward Harry.

“Is this because of this morning? Because honestly you don’t need to get me anything the cloak wasn’t even a gift…”

“This has nothing to do with this morning.” Draco cut him off. “I ordered this days ago. It only just arrived today. That you chose to lend me your cloak this morning is pure coincidence.”

“Oh…” Harry seemed unsure. “What is it?”

“Open it and I will explain.” Draco replied with uncharacteristic patience. In truth he was bubbling with excitement.  
Inside the package were two pendants each about the size of a knut, silver in color and embossed with an impressively realistic texture of a feather. Each pendant was suspended on a long silver necklace.

“A necklace?” Harry asked.

“A talisman.” Draco corrected. “In particular a specially crafted talisman designed by a Veela enchanter for Veela and their mates. You and I may not be bonded but I’m convinced that our partial bond will be sufficient for the charm to work for you.” Draco explained.

“What does it do?” Harry asked as he turned the pendant over in his hand and inspected it curiously.

“Several things. First off it is known as a Cupid’s Cure. The original Cupid’s Cure Talisman was designed by a Veela who had been dosed with a love potion and wanted to protect himself from that ever happening again. He developed a detection charm that could detect for the proximity of any potions it was enchanted to look for. The talisman was designed to grow warm when within a foot of known love potions. As new love potions were developed his family, who are the exclusive crafters of the Cupid’s Cure talisman added those new potions to the talisman's detection list. As time passed new threats came along to Veela and their mates. Scorned suitors began targeting the chosen partners of Veela either with love potions to lure them away from their Veela or in extreme cases with poisons to remove them from the picture. For this reason Veela started purchasing Cupid’s Cure talismans for their lovers to protect them from the former and the creator’s of the Cupid’s Cure started adding poisons to the list of things to detect to deal with the latter. When within a foot of known poisons the pendant grows cold.”

“Wow, that seems really useful. Why doesn’t everyone buy these then?” Harry asked.

“These talisman can only be used by Veela and their bonded, the creation of the pendants themselves utilize Veela parts. In our case I sent some of my hair. As such these pendants will only work for you or I since we are the only once keyed into my Veela magic.”

“Oh, that makes sense I guess. Still it’s a shame that these can’t be used by everyone.”

“It is important that they be kept to the exclusive use of Veela. These charms by nature are not exhaustive in terms of the love potions or poisons that could exist. If a non-Veela were able to experiment on these pendants they could figure out what things it doesn’t protect against and therefore circumvent the protections. It is for that reason that the crafters specifically key these charms to Veela magic so they will only work for Veela and their bonded partners.”

“Is it really that common for people to attack Veela?” Harry asked horrified.

“There is a long sad history of Veela, particularly young unbonded Veela being abducted, raped, dosed with love potions etc etc. These talismans can’t protect against all the dangers that Veela face from unwanted advances but they do provide a small measure of protection in that they allow Veela to identify those who would take them against their will.”

“How does that help?”

“Not all perpetrators are violent. Most of those who would coerce intimacy from unwilling partners prefer to maintain the illusion of consent and will try love potions before resorting to physical force. If a Veela catches someone giving them a love potion they identify that person as a threat before it has escalated to violence and that can buy the Veela the necessary time to protect themselves from future assault.”

“It’s horrible that anyone has to worry about something like that. It’s disgusting!”

“It is, but Harry this isn’t just some faceless Veela population at risk here. Someone is trying to dose you.”

“That’s not the same thing.” Harry dismissed.

“Oh isn’t it?” Draco dared him to disagree.

“Whoever tried to dose me just wanted a ticket to Slughorn’s party.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I’m not so convinced of the innocence of the intentions there. I mean this person didn’t even ask you to the party beforehand did they? They didn’t even give consent a chance. Are you really so sure that this person wouldn’t have taken liberties with you if you had been under their thrall? Can you really say with complete certainty that all that person would have done was dance with you? I’m dubious.”

Harry’s face turned a bit green. “I never thought of it that way. That’s quite horrifying actually.”  
Draco nodded. “Listen I’ll be the first to admit that historically I’ve not taken love potions that seriously. I’d never give someone one, but I’ll admit I had never given much thought to how horrible they really were. But when I found out that someone tried to dose you. It just. Suddenly I understood. It’s not okay. I’ve held in my rage and my protective urges as best I can. As per your wishes I have not attempted to hunt down whoever gave you that potion, but that can’t happen again. I’d like you to wear this pendant at all times. I’ll wear mine too. We can both rest assured that the other is safe, yeah?”  
Harry nodded. “How can I say no to an offer like that?” Harry smile as he placed the talisman over his head and around his neck. “How do I look?” He joked.

“Dashing, but for the charm to be effective it would really be best if you tucked it in your clothes. If the metal is not against your skin you might not feel it heating up or growing cold.”

000

“Thank you, Draco. I appreciate that you care. It’s nice to know these weird protective urges aren’t a one-way street.”

Draco felt a flutter in his stomach. “Me too.”

Harry sigh and seemed to struggle with what he wanted to say next.

“What do you plan to do about Voldemort?” He finally asked.

“Don’t say his name.” Draco responded instinctively. Then he paused and considered the question. “I don’t plan to serve him if that is what you’re afraid of. Severus told me that returning to the Dark Lord’s service is as good as selling myself into sexual slavery. I mean he was a bit more politic about it but he basically told me that the Dark Lord’s forgiveness of my loss of Dark Mark was largely due to his interest in what use my Veela powers could be put to. I don’t want to be a political whore passed around between politicians that the Dark Lord is trying to curry favor with. What kind of life is that? I can’t exactly come out against him either though. He has my mother. Frankly, I don’t really know what I plan to do. I’ve been trying not to think about it honestly. I’ll be seventeen in June, that’s a legal adult. Not that I would put it past the Dark Lord to pimp out children if he thought it would get him what he wanted. I don’t want to go home this summer, but if I don’t… my mother is everything to me.” Draco finished defeated.

Harry reached out and grabbed Draco’s hand.

“You could go to Dumbledore. He could protect you.”

“If I go to Dumbledore word will get back to the Dark Lord and he will kill my mother.”

“Dumbledore could protect your mother too.” Harry assured him. “She…doesn’t have the Dark Mark does she.?” Harry asked less certainly.

“My mother is not a death eater. No, in general the Dark Lord doesn’t tend to mark women. I don’t know if he is a chauvinist or just old-fashioned, but as far as I can tell he only has two female followers. My crazy Aunt Bella and Alecto Carrow, both of which seem to be in some kind of sick competition with one another to prove who is more devoted to him.”

“You mean…?” Harry let is question trail off as he made a disgusted face.

“Yeah, they make quite a public spectacle of it too. At least Alecto is single, but Bella… it makes me actually feel bad for my uncle Rodolphus and I hate that man.”

“Ew…you mean they publicly…”

“Yes, please don’t make me spell it out in graphic detail. It’s bad enough that as an unwillingly marked follower I was force to attend the revels. The Dark Lord enjoys demeaning his followers. I think the fact the Bella is married is why he prefers her to Alecto. He revels in Rodolphus’ public humiliation.”

“That’s gross. I’m sorry they forced you to watch that.”

“Yeah, well as horrible as it is I still prefer it to watching them torture muggles so I guess there’s that. God I don’t want to go home again.”

“We’ll find a way to protect your mother. I promise you won’t have to go back to that.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep Harry.” Draco warned.

Harry looked deeply into Draco’s eyes, squeezed the hand he was still holding and promised. “So long as I am breathing, you will not return to that life.”

And Draco believed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for how dark that opening dream sequence was but I've said it before and I'll say it again, the bond uses dreams as a way to manipulate emotions and guide the bondees to accept the bond. The protective surge Harry felt after seeing Draco die was a push he needed to embrace his protective feelings.
> 
> On that note things will be escalating quickly from here on out. I've recently taken an axe to my outline for this story and I've shaved off more than twenty chapters from book 1. Now Veela bound will be 35 chapters instead of 57 chapters. It was all just unnecessary fluff and filler and honestly it was a big part of why I was dragging my feet about writing. I like action and angst and plot. So things will be moving more quickly now. I hope you like the new pace.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like the story please comment. I love comments! I also welcome corrections of typos since I want the story to be the best that it can be.


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